


Dementor kiss

by Ladtheove



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dementor Draco, Dementor Harry, F/M, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sub Draco, Top Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-11
Updated: 2016-09-17
Packaged: 2017-11-28 23:57:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 27
Words: 109,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/680335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladtheove/pseuds/Ladtheove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Draco Malfoy escapes from his cell in Azkaban, the ministry has no choice but to send his best Auror, Harry Potter, to find him.</p><p>Between the walls of the world's toughest prison, Harry discovers not only the origin of the most terrifying creatures, but a love against time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. White

**Harry Potter is property of JK Rowling. I write this out of pure personal pleasure, and the desire to bring happiness to other fans. And my pockets don´t want anything in return. Thanks.**

**Warning:** This story contains yaoi, it means love between men. As much as drama and suffering, supernatural creatures and sex related scenes.

 **Summary:** When seven years after the war, Draco Malfoy escapes from his cell in Azkaban, the ministry has no choice but to send his best Auror, Harry Potter, to capture him again. Between the walls of the world's toughest prison, Harry will discover not only the origin of the most terrifying creatures, but a love against time.

**Dementor Kiss**

**Chapter 1 - Cold**

Henry pulled his overcoat further around himself as he continued his nightly rounds:

"It´s cold." - It was always colder in this part of Azkaban, the highest security floor where the old servers of the dark lord were locked, the pavilion of the Death Eaters.

A shudder crept up his back, from the presence of a Dementor at the other end of the hall, but the dark thing went away just a moment latter. Surely it had just dined. Sometimes Henry almost felt sorry for the prisoners.

Like every night, the guard was going from cell to cell checking that no convict had escaped, though it seemed more than that, sometimes he thought that what he actually did was check if there had been any new deaths.

He looked inside the next cell...

Like all others, this was another area of stone walls without windows, just long enough for a man lying in the floor, and with the width of a closet. A pot in the corner spelled for the needs, and a blanket, were the only furnishings. Usually, it would have also a cot, but this inmate had not been granted one.

A groan caught the attention of Henry, who came to the bars. Inside the cell under a dirty faded blanket, somebody was shaking violently, huddled on the floor.

"Lumos" - The guard held the light so it fell inside the tinny space.

The young prisoner could not have been more than twenty-four and looked ill. His skin showed a grey pallor, the result of not having seen the sun in years. Extremely thin due to the minimal rations received, and covered in dirt. His hair had turned in to something like a tangle of straw; mate and crushed, which once had been as fair as white gold. However, all this could not entirely obscure the beauty of the man. The harmony of his noble features stood out even here. The patrician nose, high cheekbones, and lips...

"What a waste." - Muttered Henry. - "So young to end here. And everything for following a monster." – He sighed in disgust.

The young man shuddered, and just barely, opened his grey as mist eyes, fogged with fever, shining through the dirty blond locks of his hair.

Draco was shivering, no matter how hard he tried to warm up; it was so very cold here...The stone of Azkaban was always wet and freezing. The icy feeling seeping in his bones through the ground where he lay, despite the blanket in with he had wrapped himself.

It had been days since he started falling really sick, but even before then he hadn´t been healthy. So little food, sleep, and rest for that. And now his whole body ached, his lungs pressed painfully against his ribs every time he caught a breath of air, forcing him to inhale less and less oxygen every time.

But the most terrible part was the cold.

It stiffened his muscles, and froze his breath. Every time he moved it was like he was being stuck with needles all over his body.

Suddenly he heard footsteps nearby, and struggled painfully to open his eyes. The only thing he could see was a blur under the light of what he believed was a wand. A guard.

Henry moved a few steps nearer, almost to the bars, and looked more closely at the prisoner. What was his name?

"Malfoy?"

Draco was dizzy, he thought he was being called but could not be sure.

"Hey, can you hear me?"

He could not get enough air, felt his consciousness slipping away. But… there was something important he had to say.

Malfoy seemed to be trying to say something, but from his went blue lips no more than disjointed mutterings, too weak to be interpreted, surged.

"I don´t understand what you are trying to say."

Draco couldn't breathe; the cold seemed to have crept into his lungs, freezing them. The darkness began to invade his vision, and soon, what he had to say didn´t matter anymore. As his eyelids closed again and his body started going limp, his last thought:

"It's so cold" -And then, darkness.

"Hey!" - But Malfoy had fallen asleep again. Henry sighed in exasperation and got up to continue the round. "Surely he will be dead by tomorrow." - And he could not help but feel sorry for the young mist eyed boy.

* * *

The sun of the first hour of the morning lit up the meadow and the forest, slowly washing the clearing from the nightly mist.

It was quiet and lazy in the place, except for a single creature, which was crossing the lawn in a race, running for the strange house that dominated the centre of the meadow. The old wooden structure, unpainted, growing on two floors and an attic, looked a bit misplaced. The weevil, black slate roof and the chimney, which puffed a nice white smoke, along with a small porch and tiny shed, completed the construction that looked extremely cluttered and homey.

Harry loved to run.

Like every morning, he was now out touring the countryside around his home. The powerful movement of the muscles when you force yourself to the fullest, the beating of your heart while the ground flies beneath your feet, the rhythm of the breath, the wind touching your face ... were feelings that he loved.

For Harry, there was no better way to start the day.

The last seven years had been good. The skinny boy had grown to six feet five, and the constant exercise had given him a strong and powerful body, which nevertheless retained the flexibility of a seeker. Unfortunately, much to the chagrin of the senior members of the ministry, who would love to exploit the fame of the Auror, Harry continued to prefer comfortable clothes, his glasses, and sneakers, more than the expensive suits he could afford if wanted.

Finally, the dark haired man slowed to a stop against the back door of the house. Wiped the sweat from his forehead and inhaled the scent that came through the open door: "Looks like Kreacher made pancakes." – The smell made his mouth water, just from remembering the delicious taste of good pancakes lavished in butter.

Hermione couldn´t stop pacing around the kitchen. - "Where was Harry?" -She had being waiting half an hour already…

At the sound of the door the said one came running, shirt and shorts glued to the body with sweat, and hair like a nest for birds, black and ruffling.

"Hello Hermione. I didn´t know you were coming." – Harry smiled at his friend, as he approached the table for the breakfast that Kreacher had left for him. The old elf always disappear whenever Hermione was at home, he couldn´t bear a "Mudblood" staining the house of his master and giving him talks about freedom. Um ... pancakes, his favourite.

"You can´t tell because you're never at home when we call! Kinghsley has send for us an hour ago!"

"Sorry, I was jogging; you know I always run before going to the ministry. Is it very urgent?" - Harry looked sadly to the pancakes; it seemed that he would not have time for breakfast.

Hermione became serious.

Her curly hair was tied in a ponytail at the nape of her neck to avoid being bothered by it at work, but some locks had escaped and framed her face, just like they had done when they were younger. Mione hadn´t grown much since then, and only the rounded curves of a woman's body betrayed her age at first sight. But her eyes were other matter entirely; they looked serious and so much older than they had when the three of them had been at school. Even if it wasn´t only her gaze the one so aged. She, Harry and Ron had seen too much during the war, things they could not tolerate, horrible things. The things that made them become Aurors, so they could prevent something like them from ever happening again to anyone. And the passion that drove the friends had made their team the best at their work.

Most of the time they could act as now, as if nothing had happened, but few could understand the pain they shared.

"Harry, I think it's serious." - The tone of her voice made Harry enter his duty mind set instantly.

"Wait a moment, I'll change." – The dark haired auror climbed the stairs two at a time, to his room. Quickly pulling off his dirty clothes, and throwing them in the corner where he knew Kreacher would pick them later, to put on the Auror uniform just after a hasty cleansing spell. Five minutes later he was back in the kitchen.

"What about Ron?" – Asked as he prepared to enter the chimney.

"He is already waiting at the office. To the ministry! – She screamed. And the two of them disappeared in a cloud of green smoke.

* * *

Finally the three arrived at Kinghsleys office .

Behind his solid black wooden desk, the minister of magic closed the report he had been reading.

"Take a seat." - Harry took the chair in the centre with Hermione and Ron on each side. Ron was still higher than Harry by about an inch, and undoubtedly heavier, but cute freckles and red hair made him look friendlier than his built suggested.

Kingsley gave the report to Hermione, the brains of the team, and she began to read it while Kinghsley started speaking:

"I have sent for you, because this case could be very complicate, and because you already know the subject. Three days ago, Draco Malfoy escaped from his cell in Azkaban."

"No way! Malfoy?!"

"Auror Wesley I assure you that if that wasn´t the case, you wouldn´t be here." - Kinghsley replied quite annoyed by the interruption.

Harry nudged his friend, and Hermione shot a look so chilled his way, that Ron fell silent at once.

"Please continue Kinghsley." - Harry hastened to add. Nevertheless Kingsley threw a stern look at them.

"Well. We know he has escaped from his cell, but we also know that he has not left the prison. The external alarms weren´t skipped, so he has to be somewhere inside. This in itself may not seem dangerous, but if he opens more cells it could lead to a riot or a mass breakout of prisoners. And if he has managed to open his own, nothing says he can´t open the rest. The guards have done everything possible to find him, so far without results. But since food has been disappearing from the kitchens, we know he has to be alive."

"But if he went to the kitchen for food, how come he hasn´t been caught?" - Harry was surprised. Malfoy escaping Azkaban? Still, he couldn´t believe coward could have emulated the feat of his godfather, Sirius Black, even if only in part.

"He's very slippery. We don´t know how he makes it. And if people knew there´s a possibility that murderers and criminals could escape from Azkaban again, panic would spread. We need you to find him as soon as possible. The guards have already been informed of your arrival."

"We will find him." - And the determination that hardened Harry's eyes was like the signal all they needed to get up and leave the office.

"May you have a lucky hunt." -Kinghsley wondered why he had the feeling that this mission was much more than it seemed.

Hermione was still engrossed in reading the report as they walked to the floo area, and Ron couldn´t seem to stop gesturing.

"I can´t believe the coxcomb has escaped! Elusive as the ferret he is."

"Calm down Ron. We're here for that, right? We take him, discover how he has made it so it doesn't happen again, and lock him back." - Harry tried to mute the iron feeling in Rons words.

"I don´t know if it will be so easy Harry." - Hermione stopped and looked up from the set of papers she held. – "He's been eluding trained guards for days, no one has seen him, no one has heard him. It´s like he doesn´t exist. Malfoy isn´t going to be easy to find." – Ron´s snort interrupted her:

"HA! As soon as I find him, he´s going to wish he had never left his cell."

"Ron Wesley! Our job is not to punish him, is to capture him. Leave your personal vendettas out of the case." - Hermione cut in.

Harry sighed.

These two were always the same.

Finally, they came to the chimney. The place was very busy at this hour of the morning; workers still arriving to the ministry or coming out of their jobs, people who came at trials, to collect documents etc. It took them a bit to find an open fireplace, especially when some passers-by recognized them, and tried to get close to greet the friends. Even after seven years, the heroes of the wizarding world still attracted attention. But finally, they managed to get into one, and be identified, before being accepted by the floo that lead to Azkaban.

* * *

Harry stumbled and nearly fell to the ground, but managed to keep the balance at the last moment, floo travel had never been easy for him.

After him came Ron and Hermione.

The room in which they appeared had stone walls, and no windows. The place was lit by several torches, but it was so cold…Harry furrowed further in his coat. It looked like they were inside the guards break room.

Easy to identify by the table and the chairs, and because near the door hung a prison guard uniform coat.

The door opened one second lather after the floo had gone off, giving way to Henry and another man in his forties that had to be his partner. The haughty eyes of the other man, overrun by greying brown hair, disturbed Harry at once. Even if the guard was not very big, with a similar eight to that of Harry and dressing immaculately, unlike Henry, who looked nice and friendly, underlined by a slight disorder of his clothes and dark brown hair, the auror detected something dangerous in him at once. And immediately wondered why a man like that, clearly not in a frame of mind good for living in such a place, was working in Azkaban.

In that moment Henry stepped forward to shake his hand:

"Welcome to Azkaban. I'm sorry it has to be in these circumstances, but we are delighted to have your help. My name is Henry Davidson and this is my friend and work partner Thomas Clearwater." -Harry was quick to shake hands.

"I'm auror Potter, they are auror Weasley and auror Granger, but you can call us by Harry, Ron and Hermione." - Henry smiled.

"So you're going to hunt Malfoy?"

"Yes, indeed."

"Excuse me." - Hermione intercepted- "Could you tell us what you know about Malfoy? Did something happen before his disappearance? No matter if it seems insignificant, no one know what can be a clue." – She took out a notebook, and her magical feather.

The guard inclined his head in thought for a second, and then seemed to remember something as his face took in a grimace of something very much like pain.

"Well, the day before his disappearance, I'd swear he was dying. Do you know? He looked very sick, could not stop shaking, and I think he tried to say something ... but fell asleep. I didn´t catch a thing, so I can´t tell what. But ... It´s very strange, because he out to be dead already." – Ron opened his mouth to reply something Harry knew wouldn´t be polite, and asked before his friend could say a word.

"Can you show us the cell in with was incarcerated Malfoy?"- Ron was a good auror, but his strength was in the chasing, not the speaking to the witnesses part.

"Of course, come this way." - Hermione wrote it all down.

Henry walked to the door, but Thomas remained behind.

"Are you coming?"- The first guard asked.

"No, I have yet to make my rounds." –Thomas answered coolly, before taking the other way of the corridor without even saying goodbye.

"Okay, be careful." - But Thomas had already twisted the corner without taking another glance their way.

"He´s always like that?" - Asked Ron. Henry started walking followed by them.

"Well, he has reasons to be, Death Eaters killed his entire family."- Silence followed the words, shutting all conversation until the group finally arrived at a tiny cell, with only a pot and a torn and dirty blanket inside.

"This is the cell." -Henry took out a key from his pocket and opened the iron rusty gate, so they could all look inside.

Harry gazed into the small room, more like a closet, in which Malfoy had live for the last seven years, with a growing sense of disgust. Hermione seemed to be experiencing a similar reaction, although Ron only had a small smile on his face. The only woman pulled out her wand with practiced ease and magically started scanning the place.

"This will take a while; maybe you two could start investigating the surroundings as I work." – Immediately Henry came to her side like a protective dog.

"Don´t worry, I'll guard her."- Hermione rolled her eyes, men, why everyone thought she needed protection?

"Hermione, Is that okay?" - Asked Ron, eager to get out and start looking for the elusive ferret, but not so much as to leave his friend alone.

"Yeah, yeah. We will manage." - She knew that Harry and Ron worked better if there was no third party interfering, and that was for Henry. Sure he knew the place well, but he would be a nuisance if not needed. So she resigned herself to the role of woman in need of protection. Such idiots, she though fondly.

Harry and Ron began to advance down the corridor until they reached an intersection.

"We will cover more ground if we split." - Said Harry.

"Sounds good, I'll go over there." - Ron turned to the left. - "If you see him, give me a sign. I don´t want to miss his face when we catch the ferret." - Harry nodded.

"I don´t think we will catch him in the first round. We don´t even know how he got out of the cell." - Ron snorted dismissing the pessimistic words.

"We will see. Good hunting mate." - And walked down the corridor right on the gloom. Harry turned to the right and looked behind him one final time, Ron had disappeared from view.

"Good hunting." - He murmured in reply, and stepped into the shadows of his own hall.

Harry changed his stance to that of a stalker the instant he started searching. His steps so silent not even the dust rose from the ground, moving from shadow to shadow maximizing the cover he took from the darkness in the corridor, like an enormous cat.

All his senses alert to every sound, movement and smell of the environment. Bit by bit the corridor started becoming dimmer; he noticed the torches were off, and that the prisoners of this section seemed all asleep, or too scared to get out from under their blankets.

He began to move more carefully. Could Malfoy have caused this? A little ahead the hallway twisted into a corner. Harry raised his head and looked toward the wall that hided at the end of the gloomy hallway. He could smell salty sea freeze, and here the atmosphere seemed less tainted.

"Lumos." - His wand lit the wall very dimly like a little spark, so he was the only one to see it, and who ever could be there didn´t take notice. There was a door. He walked over and grabbed the doorknob feather light.

"Nox."- A whispered word, slowly turning the handle. The door was open.

A gust of wind brushed the hair from his face, and the evening light blinded him for a moment. It seemed he had found an old exit, the door opened onto a small terrace of stone from which descended a staircase, but this had fallen off at some point in the history of the building, and now instead of giving to the floor below, as it should, the broken steps were hanging over an abyss that ended in the jagged rocks of the seashore. From here he could see the open sea illuminated by the red light of the dying sun.

Harry felt a chill creeping across his back:

"So cold." – Pressed the wand to his coat for a heat spell, when suddenly, his eyes caught a movement at the corner of his gaze. To his right he could see part of the roof of the prison flushed with light, and there, on the slope that it formed, a group of dementors.

His figures were dark, dressed in threadbare clothes washed by the sea wind, whispering, with a chilling sound that made him shudder. They seemed to be gathered around something. He walked to the railing to see better, yes, he saw what was in the middle.

Clothes, worn and torn by the wind, snow-white robes, a Dementor. A white Dementor.

**It will continue.**

 


	2. White

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prison map.

**Harry Potter is property of JK Rowling. I write this out of pure personal pleasure, and the desire to bring happiness to other fans. And my pockets don´t want anything in return. Thanks.**

**Warning:** This story contains yaoi, it means love between men. As much as drama and suffering, supernatural creatures and sex related scenes.

 **Summary:** When seven years after the war, Draco Malfoy escapes from his cell in Azkaban, the ministry has no choice but to send his best Auror, Harry Potter, to capture him again. Between the walls of the world's toughest prison, Harry will discover not only the origin of the most terrifying creatures, but a love against time.

 

 

**Dementor Kiss**

**Chapter 2 – White**

_His figures were dark, dressed in threadbare clothes washed by the sea wind, whispering, with a chilling sound that made him shudder. They seemed to be gathered around something. Harry walked to the railing to see better, yes, he saw what was in the middle._

_Clothes, worn and torn by the wind, snow-white robes, a Dementor. A white Dementor._

* * *

 

The creature, smaller and more fragile than the rest, seemed to be shaking slightly, while the other dementors studied him closely, even gently touching his robe. Just, so barely, carefully, as if afraid to hurt him.

It was incredibly strange.

Harry would never have believed the dementors able to act with such gentleness, if he wasn´t watching it now.

The auror moved closer to the railing, putting his hand on it, totally fascinated by the beauty of the scene.

The pallor of his robe, his slenderness, the way his shoulders shook but remained upright, fearless, raised his curiosity. An icy air blast struck him waving his coat, the movement seeming to draw the attention of the dementors, that turned to face him. Harry grabbed harder his wand and took a defensive position. Theoretically he wasn´t a prisoner and shouldn´t be attacked, but it wouldn´t be the first time one of these creatures had confronted him for no reason. However, the grim monsters didn´t move from their position on the roof, and Harry was allowed to slightly relax his pose.

The white one had turned too, but under the shadow of the hood his face couldn´t be seen, not at that distance. And although he supposed it couldn´t look any different from the common nightmarish look of a Dementor, Harry found it hard to imagine the white one hiding something so hideous. Somehow that that seeming delicate creature might look so horrible, seemed just wrong. A very estrange thought to be having, Harry toll himself, and shook his head to get rid of it.

He was just thinking this kind of things, because he had come work without taking any breakfast. That had to be it. Hungry nonsense.

Suddenly a white light made otter appeared before the Auror, almost nose to nose. Startled, Harry took a step back.

Hermione's Patronus smiled slightly: "I've finished with the scans, meet me at the guards restroom in a quarter hour" The otter made a bow in the air and shot out, probably looking for Ron.

"Well, I better go back." - With one last glance at the pale apparition, the dark haired auror walked back inside.

* * *

“You're late.” - Hermione said without looking away from the huge map that almost filled the entire table.

Harry sighed, it had taken him nearly half an hour to find his way back to the guards break room. Azkaban was practically a maze, it wasn´t his fault if he ended getting lost.

Miraculously, Ron had made his way back before him and was now sitting beside the fireplace, frowning at having to return without having found anything. Seriously, sometimes his best friend behaved like a child.

Mione, beside Henry, was looking at something in the large piece of parchment half-eaten by time.

“It wasn’t my fault, Hermione, this prison is like a labyrinth.” - Harry signed and turned painfully in her direction, just wanting to avoid being scowled.

“Next time at least send your Patronus to warn us. Something could have gone wrong without we knowing it…”

“Is that a map of Azkaban?” – Harry asked trying to change the subject, coming nearer to see it better.

Hermione didn´t say anything, but frowned, starting to explain.

“It´s this prisons map. I asked Henry to take it out so we could become familiar with it and organize for better search.” – The black haired auror took note of the complex network of corridors. It would be complicated to register so much space.

“Have you found something with the scanners?”

Mione got serious frowning slightly in concentration, as if something was bothering her.

“Has anything happened?” Asked Harry.

“The results of the scans I've done in the cell… - she said seriously. - Nothing. I can´t find a trace of Malfoys magical signature, or any other for that matter. The door hasn´t been forced. The guards had already been interrogated with verisaterum when we moved here, so they didn´t open it. I don´t know, is like Malfoy was eaten by air itself. - She bit her lower lip slightly. - I know I´m missing something, you can´t disappear like that. I will go to the ministry later, surely in the library I can find a spell that will allow a more thorough scan. Perhaps then we will have something to look at.”

“While you are at the ministry, Ron and I can start searching seriously. - He looked at the map in concentration, and waved at Henry. – Explain. What’s the configuration of the prison?” - Henry stood by his side:

“As I was saying to your companion, Azkaban is like a maze. It was designed so, for that in case of escape, the prisoner wouldn´t have it easy.” - Ron finally got up reluctantly, taking special care in making them realize he was still sulking. But he got the other side of Henry nonetheless, to study the map.

“The ground floor contains the guard bedrooms, the kitchens, the interrogation rooms, laundry room and the one intended for visits. - He pointed to each one- This is the only plant that is well organized. Now, the problem is when you raise or lower from this level. In the basement are located the cells of nearly all magical creatures, - Henry said as he touched a complicated network of passages beneath their floor that spread four levels underground. - Vampires, werewolves, veela ... they are enclosed by level of risk. The deeper floor contains the most dangerous and so on up to the ground just below us. Each level is isolated from the rest by thick silver magically enhanced doors, since silver affects almost all magical creatures. They can only be opened with the appropriate passwords and keys. - He gestured to the plant immediately above the one occupied. - This is the first floor. Here we have the thieves, pickpockets, smugglers ... people that will be coming out shortly. The security here is lower. Reinforced and enchanted metal doors isolate this level of others. Then there is the second floor, here are the murderers, rapists ... the kind of people sentenced for life. It´s very similar to the previous, isolated and labyrinthine. From here the security is rather high, be careful with the Dementors, they will be around the third and fourth floors. The third is mostly dark wizards and particularly dangerous individuals, and the fourth, the Death Eaters. From there escaped Malfoy. Spell detectors, dementors, magical doors almost impossible to open... I don´t know how he managed it.”

“And this area, here?” - Harry touched a tower whose sole entry appeared to be on the fourth floor, and whose interior was not detailed. Henry looked concerned at it.

“That´s the Dementors tower, there´s where they live.”- The words came, nearly forced.

“And no one has searched inside?” -Hermione looked closely at the structure and location of it.

“No, we haven´t registered it. The Dementors live there, no one in their right mind would go inside, it´s suicidal.”

“I don´t think seven years in Azkaban will leave you too sane.” - Hermione has begun to see where her friend was going.

“If he had tried, they would have devoured him. - Henry frowned. - You aren´t thinking in going there, no?”

“I think we should. If no one has been looking inside, is the more likely place for Malfoy to be hidden.” – Pressed Harry.  Hermione looked at him approvingly.

“Yea, we should start there.”- And nodded.

Henry sighed.

“In that case, you need to ask permission to the Dementor Lord.”

“The Lord Dementor? - The curly haired witch looked intrigued to take a new and interesting piece of information. - I've never read anything about him.”

“He´s the Dementors leader, and the only one that understands our language. When requesting assistance from the Dementors, is with him that we must speak. Mediates between wizards and dementors. When they began to work in Azkaban was agreed that the tower would be for them, no one can enter without his consent. That's why we haven´t registered it, is virtually impossible to enter there. Not without him knowing.”

Hermione bit her lower lip like she was accustomed to do every time she was thinking.

“Hmm ... I see. But it´s still necessary that we make sure Malfoy isn´t there.” - What if, as the guards, they assumed that such thing wasn´t possible and in the end Malfoy was there? The best thing was to be completely sure.

“I agree with Hermione, it would be best to start there.” – Harry, only to himself, and a little shyly, admitted that his reasons for wanting to get there weren´t entirely mission related. The image of a strange white dementor floating by his mind.

Was he in the tower? He was curious to know more about this creature; he wanted to see him again. Even if just deciding not to analyse the whys and hows, for wanting such a thing.

“Okay, we should better go in the morning, I will not venture to the tower at night.” Henry would prefer not to approach it entirely, but if he had to, he definitely preferred to do so during the day.

The Aurors nodded.

“Well, let's see how we organize the guards in the kitchen.” - Harry looked at his friends.

“Guards in the kitchen? - Ron asked bewildered.- Why should we want to guard the kitchen?”

“Because he have to eat, and eventually will go there, Ron.”- Hermione said tired already. The redhead nodded as he understood, and then smiled.

“I want to take the first call of the night.”

“Sounds good, I'll do the second. Do you want to take the third Hermione? If you're going to the ministry in the morning, at least your sleep will not be disrupted to pieces.” –Harry suggested.

“Yes, better that way. So you will speak to the Dementor Lord?” - She felt a little sorry for not being able to be present in the meeting, but if she didn´t go to the library, it would take twice as much time getting the new spell, and this was a mission in which time was essential. The longer it took to find Malfoy, the more opportunities he would have to open other cells and create an even worse situation.

They would have to make life in Azkaban until they managed to find the elusive blonde.

Living in the cold and wet guard rooms of Azkaban. "Yippy."

**It will continue**

 


	3. Soft

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The White one and Harry see each other again.

**The Dementor Kiss**

**Chapter 3 – Soft**

_They would have to make life in Azkaban until they managed to find the elusive blonde._

_Living in the cold and wet guard rooms of Azkaban._ _"Yippy."_

* * *

The barely hot dinner served in the guard room, didn´t look too appealing.

After all, their food and that of the prisoners came from the same kitchen. And while the dinner the prison elves brought for them, was substantially better, it was still rather... poor.

Soup with more salt than was needed, and something that Harry thought was supposed to have been a poor chicken at some point, before becoming charcoal. He hadn't thought it possible, but this showed that a house-elf could, effectively, have no idea of cooking.

"Can we start eating?" - Henry was eager to sink his teeth in the food, being accustomed to it already and hungry since he hadn´t eaten since breakfast.

"Aren´t we going to wait for your partner?" - Asked Ron, as they sat at the table and began to pour some soup in their plates.

"Tomas has decided to dine in his room. He doesn't feel comfortable among strangers." Henry smiled apologetically, as he took a rickety piece of poultry for himself.

"It's okay." - Harry sipped a spoonful of soup trying not to grimace. During the war they had had worse to eat, after all. But… even so, he couldn´t stop the image of Kreachers abandoned pancakes, from appearing in his mind.

He tried thinking about something else.

"By the way, Hermione, since you are going to the ministry tomorrow, could you stop by my house and ask Kreacher to throw me a suitcase for a couple of days? We would have to stay here until Malfoy is found."

Mione nodded.

"Sure, no problem. Do you want for me to visit your house too, Ron?"

"It will be better. Could you advise mom that I'll be out for a few days, right?" Hermione made an affirmative gesture with a hand, while trying to take a nip out of her burned chicken slice. A rather challenging exercise, since it was hard as a rock. But she managed somewhat.

The rest of the dinner was held peacefully. The dirty dishes disappeared in their way to the kitchen, and the Aurors were left with Henry, trying to settle in the living room floor.

"I'm sorry you have to sleep here. We have only a couple of guard rooms, and the ones that actually can be used are already occupied." - Henry felt terrible, making the heroes of the wizarding world sleep on the floor.

But when he offered to leave them his room, the aurors had rejected his proposal, saying that they had already slept in worse places than the guards rest room. Even so, he couldn´t stop the little guilty feeling inside.

The elves had brought three of the free pallets of the prisoners, but they weren't what one would call soft and comfortable. Though their thickness protected them from the cold stone floor, which was something.

They put them near the fireplace to be warmer at night, and where dressing them with some blankets, when Ron looked at the old clock hanging on the wall.

"It's time for my watch. -His smile stretched cruelly- We will see if I can hunt a ferret."- His knuckles cracked like preparing for it.

Hermione chose to turn a deaf ear to the comment. Really, if their friend persisted in behaving like a child, she wasn´t going to be correcting him all the time like she was his mother, or something equally bothersome. There were more pressing matters to attend to.

"Good luck." - Said Harry. And Ron, accompanied by Henry, raised his thumb in reply, in his way to the kitchen.

Once alone, Harry and Hermione took off their coats to go to bed, but not before throwing a couple of detector spells. Malfoy wasn't likely to come near the guard rooms, but desperate people made crazy things, and it was better to be prepared. They wrapped themselves with the clean, yet old and worn blankets that the elves had provided. It seemed that everything in Azkaban was dying, even the blankets. And tried to sleep.

-Good night, Harry. Nox. - She muttered, turning off the lights.

-Good night, Hermione.

It was going to be a long night.

* * *

It had been an hour since they had lain down.

And Harry could hear the quiet breathing of Hermione, coming from the pallet beside him. Sleeping soundly. But he couldn't seem to sleep.

Finally, taking the hint that the nap he was waiting for, was unlikely to come in the next few minutes, Harry sighed to himself. - "If I'm not going to sleep, I should be doing something useful at least."

Quietly, the auror got rid of the blankets in which he was graphed, retrieved his coat and shoes, and left the room closing carefully the door in his wake. Not wanting to wake his friend.

The dark hallway lit by torches, silent, damp, didn´t look much different at night. Especially since there weren't any windows, to let the moon light make any difference. The lighting never changed here. Only the drop in the temperature, and the lower number of laments, could reveal that, in fact, it was night.

A shudder shook his frame:

"So cold." – He muttered, throwing his coat the heat spell that he hadn't conjured that morning.

For a moment he thought in going to the kitchen with Ron, but he didn´t want to listen to his best friend's constant hate chat about Malfoy. If he went, he would surely end up with a headache.

"I can always re-register the cell." - He said to himself. Surely he wouldn't find anything new, but at least he would be doing something.

* * *

The vision of the small, dirty room, dimly lighted by the torches of the hall was depressing. How could have someone like Malfoy survive in such a place? He tried to imagine the proud Slytherin freezing cold, sitting on the damp stone floor, dirty, hungry. The vision made him nauseous. It reminded him too much of Sirius.

He looked at the other inmates of the hall and had to grit his teeth.

"No, they deserve it. They are here for their crimes" He made himself deaf to the voice telling him that Sirius had been innocent. "This has been a bad idea, I have better go back and try to grab some sleep" He started to walk back…

A sound, a whisper, put Harry on alert.

In a moment he was seeking refuge in the shadows, hiding. Crouching slightly, trying to make as little noise as possible.

"Malfoy?"

He tried sneaking up on the source of the faint murmur. Not hearing anything else, not the pleas of the prisoners, not their unconnected babbling, just that whisper... He recognized it a moment lather. A Dementor. Did they guard Azkaban so late in the night? Well, it wasn´t like Dementors needed to rest. Did they? He thought about asking Hermione about it.

The truth was he never had bothered to find out anything about the Dementors, beyond how to defeat them. A thing he now regretted, and that he regretted even more when he looked out of the corner cautiously... and found out who was the Dementor in there.

Motionless, before a cell, there was him.

The torchlight shone faintly in his robe, its paleness making him look even more delicate, than he had thought when he saw him on the roof.

The little white couldn´t go much beyond Harry's shoulders in height. And he could see that under the cloth, his body was really slender, very thin. But from his hiding place he couldn't look at who was hiding underneath the hood. His head was bowed seeming to look into the small space with something like... melancholy?

A curious tongue of intrigue curled itself around Harry.

And in impulse the auror decided to leave the corner, exposing himself. What harm could it do? It wasn't as if he couldn't defend himself against a Dementor. Just in case he reached into his pocket and grabbed his wand, but didn't remove it from his coat. He didn't want to look threatening.

The Dementor caught the movement not a second lather, and turned to face him. Harry saw very clearly, how the creature went tense as a bowstring the instant he saw him. How the small shoulders tensed and stepped back, like he was going to run away any minute now.

"Wait!"

The Dementor stopped hesitantly.

"I will not hurt you." - How ridiculous sounded that? By God, he couldn´t even understand his words. Could he? He had stopped after all. Could it be that ... he tried to make his voice as smooth and calm as possible.

"Are you the Dementor Lord?" - This seemed to make the white shudder.

But when he didn't take another step back, the Auror came nearer. Until Harry had him almost within arm reach… reached out…

The Dementor was started by the movement.

Harry stretched out just as the creature began to walk away. His fingers brushing the like a wisp of fog coat, before the creature started running, the pale appearance disappearing around the corner.

"So soft…" - looking surprised at his hand, Harry couldn´t stop the whisper from leaving his lips.

He had never touched a Dementor, and now that he had, just one thought plagued his head.

Soft. He was so soft. Couldn't be compared to anything he had touched before. It was cold, tingling in the fingers, almost intangible so smooth it was.

"I have to talk to Hermione."

* * *

When he came back to the guard room Hermione was still asleep and it was almost time for his call. Not much lather Ron entered the door, yawning, and eager for some sleep.

"Henry waits you in the kitchen." – The sleepy red head said, giving Harry a piece of paper on which the guard had drawn a little map, before hanging his coat from the hook on the wall.

"Thanks Ron." - He put the paper in his pocket.

"Agggh, stills no sign of him. It's incredible." - Ron ruffled his hair frustrated, as if the thought itched him. Harry could not help smiling at it.

"You didn't really believe, he was going to appear before you, and get himself caught, did you?"

His friend snorted indignantly, getting into the mattress. Harry had to turn around to keep from laughing.

"See you at breakfast." - The only answer was a muffled groan, from under some ratty pillow. Finally allowing himself a smile, Harry went the kitchens way; it was now his turn to guard the place, just to see if they were able to catch the elusive ferret. Or even a glimpse of their prey.

Hours passed slowly with nothing more interesting than poor Henrys conversation. Apparently, he wanted to hear first-hand the story of the end of the war. And since it was something Harry hated talking about, they were left with little more to say.

He thought asking about the white Dementor, but dismissed the idea; he didn't want to explain his reasons to a stranger, not when he had a friend with much more knowledge than the guard.

When it came time to swift turns again, it didn't cost him too much to convince Henry that he should return and take some rest.

He would partner with Hermione.

* * *

"Good night. "- greeted his friend.

Hermione's hair was dishevelled after sleeping, looking like a nest of mice. Her wrinkled clothes, which she had slept with, and her tired face, made her look like some kind of ghost.

Harry didn´t look much better, starting with his sleep deprived eyes, his wrinkled clothes and his hair... well, his hair was impossible to comb even at the best of times, so it really didn't matter too much if it looked more than rumbled.

Harry took another sip from the cup of coffee he had taken from the kitchen.

"Good night Hermione. Did you sleep well?" – He handed her another cup of coffee.

"Thanks." – Mione took the cup tiredly- "I haven't slept very well, but it doesn't matter.-She waved her hand in dismissal, not really bothered by it. Accustomed as she was, with the kind of work they had every other day- Well, are you going to tell me what's in your head, or no?" – And arched her eyebrow, taking a casual ship from the old cup.

Harry smiled; sometimes Hermione was able to read him to perfection.

"Should have known you would realize something was amiss.

"It isn't hard to see that you want to talk about something. Since you and Ron are so heavy sleepers, there must be some good reason for you to want to stay and keep me company, instead of going to bed. Well what´s it?" – Her friend stared into the darkness of the hallway, something running inside his head.

"Hermione, What do you know about Dementors?" - Asked without looking her way.

"More or less, the same you do. Why do you ask?"

"Just before we meet again in the guard resting room, a now not a couple hours ago ... I saw a white Dementor. Isn´t it weird? White?" – He looked at her expectantly, needing to know.

Hermione bit her lip in concentration, trying to remember anything she could have read about something like that.

"As far as I know, there isn't any white Dementor. But as I said, I don't know much about them. I could look in the library…"- "Um ... white dementors." Quickly her head was cataloguing the books she knew that might be useful.

"Thank you Hermione."

"He had some other unique characteristic?"

"I think he understood me. At one point, when I asked him to stop, he reacted as if he knew what I was saying."

"Maybe he was the Lord Dementor." - Different, not only in colour, but also able to understand humans. He had a good chance at being the one and only Lord. Iif he really had understood and not reacted out of instinct.

"I've thought it. But he seemed so fragile…, I mean, the Dementor Lord is not the most powerful Dementor of Azkaban? He seemed like the wind could take his body away, so thin he looked."

"Appearances can be deceiving." – She retorted.

Harry nodded, not entirely convinced.

"I guess we'll know in the morning."

They continued sipping coffee.

* * *

Harry, Ron and Henry were finishing preparing to go see the Dementor Lord, when finally, Hermione stood before the fireplace ready to go to the ministry.

"Write down anything important he tells you, I what to know everything when I return." – She insisted for the tenth time that morning.

"Yesss"- The two friends replied wearily. But when she opened her mouth to say something more, Ron couldn't take it anymore.

"Can´t you go already? If it's necessary I will let you see my memories, but for Merlin, go!"

Hermione glared at him.

"Do not talk to me like that Ron Weasley!

"Enough! Nothing is going to escape our notice Mione, now please; if you don't hurry you will end up without time left for all you have to do."- Harry was in as much a hurry to go and talk to the Lord Dementor, as his male best friend, but he respect his female one much more than Ron seemed capable of mustering.

The curly haired Auror looked at the old clock, and finally decided to take her leave.

"Okay. Have a nice day. Ministry of magic!" – She shouted and disappeared trough the heart, inside a green puff of smoke.

"We're going or what?" -The redhead was already at the door. Henry put his keys in his pocket and swallowed, preparing for what awaited them, he never liked having to talk to this creature, but this was an emergency, so...

"Well, let's go then."

Henry led the way, with Ron and Harry a couple of steps behind.

* * *

They had long since left the cells behind, moving to an area of labyrinthine bare rock corridors. The torches started becoming increasingly scarce until they had to light their wands to see in the dark.

Despite knowing it was morning, Harry was feeling like in the middle of a very cold, winter, moonless, night.

The temperature dropped as they advanced, until even under the magical warm spell they could feel the cold. The only sounds were the steps of the three of them, their breathing, a drop of water hitting the ground in some stone corner... Soon, they began to see signs of the elves fear to the Dementors. Must have passed years, since one of them dared to approach the place.

The floor was covered with a thick layer of dust, thick cobwebs hanged from the ceilings, the air reeked of old and dead things. Then, moments later, they began to feel it too, the oppressive feeling that indicated the proximity of one of them. The murmur of the survival instinct that prompts you to run.

Fear.

Harry clenched his jaw and fought the impulse, sinking it so deep in his subconscious that his presence was easily ignored. He gave thanks for the hard training received, which enabled him to withstand this kind of mental pressure without so much as a tingling.

Finally the light of their wands lit something ahead of them. They went closer, and Harry and Ron saw what couldn´t be anything other than the entrance of the tower. A large, old dark wooden with rusty metal bands, door. Henry sighed squaring his shoulders, and took the knocker in hand.

"Try to be respectful." He admonished before calling.

They held their breath while Henry hit the wall, the sound, in contrast to the deathly silence of the place, seemed to spread through the corridors like the touch of a funeral bell. And when the sound died, the creaking of the door caused the three of them to stare at it nearly mesmerized.

Harry watched as the door opened and the creature on the other side came to light, his heart beating furiously inside his chest.

Ragged clothes dragged the dust in his wake, whispering like a ghost. A feeling of terror flooded Harry brutally for a moment, making him tremble before being able to contain it with great difficulty. He noted that Ron had taken a step backward with eyes open in terror, and Henry swallowed noisily.

Before them, dark as the deepest of nights, terrible and powerful, was the Dementor Lord.

**It will continue.**

(Next chapter Draco)


	4. Soul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time ticking.  
> When seven years after the war, Draco Malfoy escapes from his cell in Azkaban, the ministry has no choice but to send his best Auror, Harry Potter, to capture him again. Between the walls of the world's toughest prison, Harry will discover not only the origin of the most terrifying creatures, but a love against time.

**Harry Potter is property of JK Rowling. I write this out of pure personal pleasure, and the desire to bring happiness to other fans. And my pockets don´t want anything in return. Thanks.**

**Warning:** This story contains yaoi, it means love between men. As much as drama and suffering, supernatural creatures and sex related scenes.

 **Summary:** When seven years after the war, Draco Malfoy escapes from his cell in Azkaban, the ministry has no choice but to send his best Auror, Harry Potter, to capture him again. Between the walls of the world's toughest prison, Harry will discover not only the origin of the most terrifying creatures, but a love against time.

 

**Dementor Kiss**

**Chapter 4 – Soul**

 

_Before them, dark as the deepest of nights, terrible and powerful, stood the Dementor Lord._

* * *

The air in the corridor grew even colder, their breath condensed in ghostly white mist. The light from the wands dimed to a withered glow. And the place became something actually nightmarish, in the presence of him.

Harry felt the cold creeping inside his bones. Freezing the breath in his lungs, his hands wet with cold sweat, the wand heavy between his fingers… Angrily, he grabbed it harder, digging his nails in his palm. Taking pain instead of fear.  Gritted his teeth, and painfully, with the steel will only acquired at the expense of surviving a war, as bloody and painful as the one he had to fight, dominated it... barely.

 Harry looked up gasping, still haunted by the voice whispering him to flee, trying to drown his mind.

The Dementor… was human shaped. Tall and muscled like Ron. But there ended, any remotely human resemblance. Black as a ravens coat, eaten by insects and time, the tunic embraced his body like a kings gear. Only his bonny long fingers, with nails like a hawk, were visible under it…

The aura of utter despair and terror around him, enveloping his form like a blanket, was much more terrible than any other of its kind. So much so…

Next to him Ron was struggling to dominate the sudden panic attack, gasping like a fish out of water. Henry, however, more accustomed to the dementors, seemed to have regained his composure, though pale and trembling.

“What brings you to our domain, men?”- The voice, the whisper of the Dementor made clear. Hissing, dark, attractive. It melted on your senses like butter on skin. He felt a shiver of total disgust. Beside him, Henry took a step forward with a plaque identifying him as a guard, clearly visible in his stretched hand.

“My name is Henry Cleawater, guard of Azkaban.” - His voice tried to sound firm, but Harry could apperceive a slight tremor in it. The Lord nodded faintly, just a gesture of acknowledge.

“I know who you are. What remains unanswered is the cause of your presence at our home door.”

Henry fought the urge to kneel before the oppressive presence that threatened to seize his body. And squared his shoulders.

“U ... one of the prisoners of the fourth level, Draco Malfoy, has escaped.” - The Dementor hissed, prompting the guard to take a step back involuntarily.

“I know. We were asked about it. And we haven´t seen him yet, you would had known if it were the case.” – The malicious whisper had a very dark undertone.

Harry listened, and knew exactly what the monster would have done at finding Malfoy, and under what conditions the slytherin would have returned to his cell ... or to the morgue. Henry shuddered, and the creature emitted something like a sinuous laugh, enjoying immensely the growing discomfort of the guard.

Furious, Harry took a step forward, unable to see the Dementor Lord so cruelly playing with the friendly man… and maybe, just a little, also driven by something else.

“What we want is to be allowed to register the tower.” - The words left his lips before he could stop them. The hood turned sharply in his direction, but Harry was adamant, refusing to show any sign of fear, although breath refused to enter his lungs.

“And why would you have to do such a thing?” - The cavernous voice enveloped the Auror, pressing him, making Harry start gasping convulsively for breath. The frightened little voice in his head, growing louder, but he refused to be intimidated. _"It's just a Dementor, I have faced dozens before, this is no different,"_ he said to himself, and took sharply the air he needed.

“We think there are chances for Malfoy to have been able to hide inside.” - His voice hoarse from the effort.

The Dementor Lord threw his head back, a sinister laugh, like the screech of metal against metal, came from his throat and slithered under their skin with spider like fingers.

“There's no living in our tower.” -He said.

“Still, we have to be sure.”- Harry insisted stubbornly.

The Dementor Lord refused at once.

 “No.” - His tone admitted no argument.

The darkness of the hall seemed to intensify. The cold began to frost the moisture in the floor and walls... Harry opened his mouth to reply, but Henry put a hand on his arm as a warning.

“Please, pardon our impertinence.” - Henry whispered, voice choked with terror. He bowed and began dragging Harry with him, Ron at his heels completely terrified. The Dementor Lord didn´t even turn to look at them as he walked back inside the tower, closing the door behind himself, taking with him the cold and darkness.

* * *

Henry quickly took them to the guard rest room, ignoring any further attempt at conversation from a very annoyed Harry.

“What were you thinking?! I told you to be polite!” - Henry was red with anger. Harry faced the guard irritated by his attitude.

“In case you didn´t realize, I was trying to help! That dementor was laughing at your expense!”

“Don´t you dare imply I needed protection! Because you don´t know anything about how Azkaban works!  We were in his territory, it was his right!” – Henry gestured angrily toward the door they had just entered.

“No, it was not! You are a guard and...”

“HE IS THE DEMENTOR LORD! You have to remember that if these creatures are controlled is because he wants it that way! Maybe it doesn´t matter to you, but I have to live here!” - Harry closed his mouth abruptly. Henry sank exhausted on the sofa next to Ron, who had scarcely begun to recover from the experience.

Harry took the words in, and understood Henrys way of thinking, even if he didn´t like it. 

 “... I'm sorry. I shouldn´t had intervened.” -The black haired man approached the guard contrite.

Henry sighed.

“It's okay. I guess now we can´t register the tower.”

“Don´t be so sure.” - Harry smiled.

Henry looked up. At the same time the flames of the fire roared letting Hermione in.

“Hi. How was the visit to the Dementor Lord?” – She asked.

The aurors and the guard looked at each other.

* * *

Sunlight, a dim grey glow behind the clouds and the fog coming from the sea, poured from the dirty window to cast its sad presence inside, barely enough to dimly illuminate the room.

“A depressing light, for a depressing place.” – He muttered, using his sleeve´s edge, to clear a small circle in the thick dust covering the window glass. The landscape outside was no more than a rough sea lost in fog. Even at noon, the sun could rarely be seen here. But even so, he loved looking outside. So much years inside a rock cage, made the man appreciative of even the saddest outside vision.

The figure sitting on the stone seat, at the foot of the window, was shaking.

“So cold.” –He murmured.

Finally, unable to ignore the frigid temperature anymore, got up from the window and went to knelt beside the fire.

The room was old but well preserved. In fact, the only dirty element was the window. But that was because the towers windows were never cleaned. A security measure so nobody from outside could see inside.

A stupid thing if someone asked him. But here he had no voice or vote. What a familiar situation. Hadn´t it been like that all his life?

The bed was an antique of solid wood, every inch carved with lions and plants. Motive present, even, in the worn by time magnificent canopy curtains, of crimson velvet and gold embroideries.

A comfortable and gold baroque mirror, a small table against the wall with a chair, and the thick carpet placed before the fire on which he had sat, were all the furniture in the room. A decadent room, maybe worn, but still noble.

"An environment that suits me" He rubbed his hands and spread them to the warm fire, apprehensively noting the extreme pallor of his skin. The way he could almost follow the path of veins under the surface. "Yesterday I wasn´t so pale" He swallowed convulsively and rose, coming closer to the mirror.

 Dropped the hood that covered his face.

Silver blond hair spilled out to rest on thin shoulders. Grey eyes surrounded by dark circles, stared back from the crystal surface. High cheekbones, thin lips, pale skin ... so pale. Draco stifled a groan of despair.

"No. No, no, nonononono...ENOUGH!" Put his forehead against the cold surface of the mirror, trying and failing to cool down, while catching his breath. "I can still stop it, I have time." He looked into his eyes, determined.

Yes, he still had time. But not much more. And he just couldn´t do this alone. He needed help.

Draco left the mirror, needing to focus, needing to think. He sat again by the fireplace, wrapped in his white robe. The heat of the fire wasn´t a relief, but the flames offered him something to watch while plotting.

"I will not become one of them." If anything was left oh him after seven years in hell, it was his pride and determination. "I have lost everything. Power, wealth, magic, freedom, even my body has been ..." He looked at his hands, so thin, he knew that his ribs under the cloak would also be prominent. Little remained of the handsomeness that he had previously taken for granted. "If the only thing I have left is my soul ..." He touched the palm of his hand to his chest, feeling the beat of his own heart "I will defend it with all my might. Whatever It Takes"

Draco observed the white robe that covered his battered body. White... for now. If he didn´t want it ending black, he had to act quickly.

* * *

When Hermione entered the room she could immediately see, that the interview with the Lord Dementor hadn´t gone well. Ron looked cat-atonic, Harry guilty-looking, and Henry sat avoiding her gaze… And after hearing the story, she felt like kicking her friend.

Hermione rubbed her temples to try to dispel the headache.

“So, only to make it clear; you insulted the Dementor Lord?”

“I didn´t insult him Mione. I just went… a little rough.” - Harry tried to defend himself.

“ ... “– Hermione took a deep breath; she wasn´t going to obtain anything by getting angry with Harry. What was done, was done.- "I guess we can´t do anything about it."

Ron had finally recovered, but was busy undoing the suitcase Hermione had brought him. Just so he didn´t have to admit, that he had been paralyzed by fear when they saw the Dementor Lord.

“How about you? You found the new spell?” – Henry asked the brown haired Auror.

“Of course.” - She pulled a thick volume of the backpack she carried, titled: _"Spells detectors and sniffer"_ And opened it from the marked page.  

“I think this will serve our purposes. – She pointed the paragraph - It's a very powerful spell that detects magical presences and flows of magic. If this isn´t enough, nothing’s going to be.

“Can we prove it?” - Asked Ron livelier. Harry nodded, smiling.

* * *

“Hermione, what’s happened?” - Ron shook the unmoving girl.

He and Harry had been accompanying her while she tested the spell on Malfoy's cell. When, suddenly, at finishing it, she had fallen directly into the red head arms. Totally of.

“Put her here.” - Harry spread his coat on the floor, so Ron could put Mione in it.

If anything happened to her ... Harry got up to go in search of a mediwitch, when a cry made him look back.

“Hermione! You had us so worried! - Ron was squashing a blushing Mione – Don´t you scare us again.” - And smiled relieved, it had just been a little faint. Thank god.

“Yes, yes. I'm fine. Ron please, let me go, you're suffocating me.” - She tried to hide the blush coughing, while the redhead let her go.

“What happened?”

Mione shook her clothes, trying to keep her composure despite the colouring of her cheeks.

“It was just an overload, I didn´t expect the spell to reveal so much information. Next time I'll be more careful.”

“Have you learned anything interesting?” - Ron was ecstatic.

 Hermione nodded soberly, her face serious.

“We hadn´t noticed the dark aura before, because it´s masked in the one natural of the prison. But something ... someone has practiced dark magic in that cell. And not just any spell. Never, never I have feel anything like that. Whatever he did, it couldn´t be good for Malfoy.”

Harry frowned thoughtfully.

Ron just smiled.

“Well, somebody did something to Malfoy before he escaped. So what? He deserved it.”

Mione looked at him, with disgust.

“You don´t know what you're saying Ron. This isn´t like a stinging spell; it could be even darker than the unforgivables.” – But the red-haired Auror seemed deaf to the words of his companion.

Harry felt a wave of hatred and disgust against whoever had been so wicked to use that kind of magic.

“Who could have done that?” – He said almost to himself.

“I don´t know. - Murmured Mione.- But this complicates matters.”

“For now we can´t do nothing. Better stick with the original plan and register the different levels of the prison. Back to the room, it's time to get going.”

In the lounge they met with Henry and his partner Tomas, who was still looking at them with superiority.

“Well, then all´s clear. -Harry said pointing to the large map of the prison, that had been returned to its spread position on the table. - Hermione and Henry will register the four levels underground, me and Ron the top four, and Tomas will watch the kitchen. Remember, all doors must remain sealed to keep Malfoy from going from one level to another, unable to move freely within the prison. Register meticulously each level before proceeding to the next, so we can corner him. Questions?” – No one said anything. - “In that case we can start now. Stop at eight, come back here for dinner, if there´s any problem, send your patronus. Good luck!” - All nodded and split up to go to their respective duties.

 “At last the hunt begins!” - Ron said cheerfully.

**It will continue.**


	5. Fear

**Harry Potter is property of JK Rowling. I write this out of pure personal pleasure, and the desire to bring happiness to other fans. And my pockets don´t want anything in return. Thanks.**

**Warning:** This story contains yaoi, it means love between men. As much as drama and suffering, supernatural creatures and sex related scenes.

 **Summary:** When seven years after the war, Draco Malfoy escapes from his cell in Azkaban, the ministry has no choice but to send his best Auror, Harry Potter, to capture him again. Between the walls of the world's toughest prison, Harry will discover not only the origin of the most terrifying creatures, but a love against time.

 **Note:** Thanks **Yamimoukin** and **TroMin** for cheering me so much. ^^ And **Yaoifanfake** yea, you have go it ;) Draco is turning into a Dementor… and I hate Ron XD I think my feelings are bleeding into the fic.

Now I present:

**Dementor Kiss**

**Chapter 5 – Fear**

" _In that case we can start now. Stop at eight, come back here for dinner, if there´s any problem, send your patronus. Good luck!" - All nodded and split up to go to their respective duties._

" _At last the hunt begins!" - Ron said cheerfully._

* * *

Harry looked at his watch.

It had passed half an hour since Hermione and Henry went searching the lower levels. Surely, they would have separated already to cover more space. He looked at Ron. He and Harry were searching the stores of the first floor, some of whom had been deserted nearly a century ago. The disuse easy to see in the way his best friend was trying to open one of the doors lining the hall. The wood swelled with moisture over the years, was caught in the jamb, making opening it a really difficult task. "Ron."

The redhead turned wiping in his sleeve the sweat from his brow.

"You are leaving now?"

Harry nodded.

"Do you think they have believed it?"

"I don´t think they suspect anything. Maybe we're being a little paranoid ... but that spell didn´t made itself."- Ron crossed his arms thoughtfully, leaning against the wall.

During the war, and even before, the difficulties they had to overcome together, taught them, that to rely on anyone that wasn´t one of their friends could be the last thing they did. And especially, in a case like this, who reeked of corruption, they couldn´t afford such mistake.

When Hermione got up after fainting, and told them that ... they knew certainly that trusting the guards was no longer an option. That kind of spell... in a secured place? Impossible for anyone to have run something like it without the guards knowing. But there, in the hall, without knowing for sure where the suspects could be, it hadn't been prudent to speak.

They weren´t the bests for nothing.

They knew how to work perfectly coordinated, had been in many similar situations, were best friends… that gave them an understanding of each other that didn´t need words. So Ron, whose hatred for Malfoy was well known, had done what he did best, blame the ferret and downplay the whole thing. If they thought the aurors didn´t give the incident more importance than that, it was likely they would drop their guard.

And, if any of them had been the caster of such magic, they, certainly, wouldn´t hesitate in using it to protect themselves if being cornered. So the three friends had separated like nothing was wrong, until a time such as this, when they could act. When they were for sure where each of the guards were.

How could they suspect that the three aurors would use the valuable time of searching, for planning their next move?

"Then I will stay and cover for you." - The red-haired auror looked seriously at his friend.-"You know, If Henry or Thomas come looking for us, say that we separated to cover more ground."

Harry nodded.

"Thanks Ron. See you in a couple hours. If anything happens you know what to do."

"I'll send my patronus. Don´t worry. – And turned to the door rolling up his sleeves. - Well, let's see if I can open this."

* * *

Harry undid the way to the resting room being careful to stay hidden in the shadows.

Finally reaching the door, and after making sure that nothing could be heard inside, he entered and took from his backpack the invisibility cloak.

"Let's go."

* * *

Hermione felt a slight movement in the air at her side and turned sharply in its direction, but saw nothing.

She was on the first floor of the basement, at the end of a dark corridor flanked by heavy silver doors magically sealed, and as far as she had been able to go from Henry, with the excuse of ground cover.

The coursed area intended for werewolves.

The sounds of tearing claws against stone or metal, the inhuman screams, growls and howls put her mind on end. She grasped the wand harder.

"Meat, meat ..."

"What ..."

"!"

"Hermione." - Harry´s voice made her jump.

"Don´t do something like that ever again." – The ginger haired woman hissed between sharp teeth, somewhere among scared and angry.

Harry bit his lip to keep from laughing, Hermione looked like a scalded cat. Especially with her hair sticking out of place. The female auror abruptly snatched the invisibility cloak from his body, and threw a bubble of silence charm in its place.

"Is it safe?"

"Don´t worry; I casted a detector spell at Henry. If he comes near us, I will know." - Mione said.

"Okay." - Harry leaned against the wall, hiding in the shadows, just in case. – "So, do you know something of the spell used in Malfoys cell?" – He asked.

Hermione sighed.

"No. Sorry, but that was true. If only I haven´t fainted I could have pretended the spell had failed, but as things were, pretending wasn´t going to help. And to show that I didn´t know it was black magic, especially of that level; would have been even less believable."

"The best thing would have been to do as we hadn´t discovered anything. But..."- They couldn´t afford to deny it since any guard could had been watching them. And to throw a spell to see if they were spied upon, would have exposed their suspicions.

Mione sighed.

"Besides, I can´t get out of Azkaban so soon after returning, it would look too weird. I guess our best shot is to send an owl to MacGonnagal, maybe she can lend me certain useful books about what kind of spell we are dealing with."

"Meanwhile to see if we can come up with something about Malfoy… If he isn't dead already." – Harry murmured.

Hermione said nothing to that, a magic so dark left little hope for the one casted upon.

"We'll have to watch Henry and Tomas. –Harry continued- You can take care of Henry, since you are registering the basement together… And could you ask Ron to deal with Tomas?"

"I'll send my Patronus. - She volunteered. - But what are you going do?" - Mione asked.

"I'll see if I can enter the tower. I don´t know why, but I have a feeling that there´s where the key of this case lays." -For a moment he seemed to look intensely at nothing, until his focused again.

"Be careful, okay? Try not to dive headfirst into danger, at least this time." - Harry smiled mischievously at Hermiones words.

"You know me." – His friend shook her head hopelessly.

"I don´t know what I'm going to do with you. – She undid the bubble of silence- Hope you have some luck."

"You too." - He said softly.

The dark haired auror threw the invisibility cloak again over himself, and waited for his friend to go out before heading to the tower.

* * *

Draco was sitting by the fireplace watching the flames move without seeing them. His knees pressed against his chest, hugged in a feeble try to keep some warm. But each passing day feeling warm turned more difficult, as if he were being slowly frozen from the inside.

"I guess that´s not very far from reality." The curse was turning his blood ice. He needed a way to undo it before being too late. "The problem is that I don´t know how it was done either." At the time he had been semi-conscious, freezing cold, sick ... he couldn´t remember anything.

The creak of the door behind him took Draco out of his thoughts:

"Lady Margaret." - He greeted.

A Dementor carrying a tray entered in the room, carefully depositing the food on the table.

"Good evening, Draco. - The voice, though slightly hissing was that of a woman. - I brought you something to eat." - The hood she wear was removed and Draco suppressed a shiver.

At some time in the past she must have been a beautiful woman late in her forties, but now his brown hair looked like a pile of dead seaweed on her head, atop skin as pale as a corpse, with eyes covered in a whitish gel-like film. Although Draco knew she wasn´t blind. Of the same height as him, thin like a broomstick, she looked like a body that had been taken out of the muddy bottom of a swamp. Still yet, it was better to see her like that, than as a Dementor.

Draco knew that the only reason he was able to see this human form, was because he also was becoming one.

"Why do you help me?" -He said softly. The Dementor waved a bony hand resting importance to his words.

"I never liked to see a kid go hungry. And if you don´t want to eat properly..."

"I will not eat the soul of anyone!" - The blond exclaimed angrily, rising from his position before the fire. Margaret hit him in the chest with a finger.

"That's something you can´t prevent young man. You are what you are, and should get rid of those silly human complexes." - Her voice was maternal, and Draco could read in her face that she really cared for him. They meet only a few days ago, but the strange and erratic creature had taken instant affection to the young prisoner. Perhaps, because he was the youngest in the tower.

"I'm not a Dementor ..." - his voice sounded weak even to his ears.

"Don´t worry so much, it isn´t so terrible of a existence.- Margaret gave him a few pats on the shoulder. -Well, I better continue with the clean-up, there´s still much to do. Take a little rest, sweet, you look sick." - the boy held a grin, _"Look who is telling me that I look bad ..."_

Lady Margaret was who maintained the order and cleanliness of the tower. The elves were too frightened to be able to keep coming, so the Dementors Lord had entrust the task to another, namely, her.

Margaret was muttering to herself again before closing the door in her wake.

gRRRRRRRRRrrr Draco put his hands to his stomach feeling suddenly very hungry.

Finally sitting at the table he looked at the small dish of porridge, slice of bread and glass of water, feeling his mouth water. It was what happened when one wasn´t able to prove more than stale and mouldy bread for almost seven years. He quickly ate it all, but even them, somehow, he still had a slight feeling of hunger...

The blond threw his hood upon his head, hiding in it. Not wanting to think.

It felt like he would end up crying if he continued worrying about it. He was exhausted from so much stress.

Draco hugged himself trying to find some comfort.

"I needed to forget about everything for a while, I needed some peace. Maybe I should follow the advice of Lady Margaret and get some sleep"

* * *

A web adhered to his cloak as he moved in front of the old door of the tower, and Harry cleaned it as best he could.

"Why can´t they live in a cleaner place?" He muttered to himself and shook his head raising his wand to better see the latch; it seemed that the door was locked. _"Logical. They don´t seem to receive many visits"_

"Nox." - murmured softly before taking it in hand, making sure to remain hidden by the invisibility coat. Slowly he began to turn the latch, avoiding squeaking hinges, and sliding it open slowly, before slipping in and closing the door behind. Thus ending in a short hallway, at the end of which could be seen candlelight.

"That's weird." He thought, and crouched maintaining a defensive posture, since he was invading a forbidden territory, in which if he was found out he would have to fight just to get out. For a moment Harry stood still, recalling the soft laughter of his mother, to be prepared in case he needed to use the patronus. But when he neared the light source ...

"Wha ...!" – Instantly Harry bit his lip realizing the noise he must have done.

The interior of the tower wasn´t nothing like the passage that preceded it. Before him lay another stone corridor, but clean, warmly lit by candles and flanked on both sides by dark wooden old, but polished, doors. Worn carpets, faded tapestries... The place exuded a sense of tarnished nobility.

He took a few steps in; inspecting fascinated the moving images of the tapestries. There was a huge castle beside a lake, the summer sun reflecting on the leaves and the gentle movement that produced the breeze:

"Hogwarts ..." It looked much newer and shiny, but the magnificent college was unmistakable. "What´s making here a tapestry of Hogwarts?" He went to see the next one when his sensed warned him of an icy sensation behind himself. A Dementor with what looked like a bucket and a mop was ailing in his direction.

The Auror frowned confused. He had been so focused on the tapestry that hadn´t realized the monster had come so close. But even if he was pretty sure that his form wouldn´t be seen, even by those creatures, inside the invisibility cloak, he decided not to risk it. Taking advantage of the thing being looking the other way, Harry opened the nearest door and slipped inside, gently shutting it in his wake, trying not to make noise.

As he turned he saw that he must have entered a bedroom. The room had one large window covered with dust beneath which was a carved stone seat wall. But even if the window was all dirty, like in the hallway the furniture here, old but well preserved, wasn´t.

The fireplace was lit with orange flames... It was quite possible that the owner of the room was still there.

"I should have checked if it was empty." He raised his wand, ready to conjure. The space carefully searched at a glance. At first there seemed to be nobody else. A solid wood bed completely carved with lions and plants, canopy crimson velvet with gold embroidery curtains worn by time, closed at the time, was the biggest furniture in the room. It reminded him of the Gryffindor ornaments, and Harry couldn´t prevent approaching the bed, filled with curiosity.

"Anyone living here could be sleeping…"

He was so curious...

"Do Dementors really sleep?"

Before thinking better of it, he carefully drew one of the curtains. The golden light of the candles fell inside slightly allowing Harry to see what was there. A delicate figure clad in a white robe, sleeping under a thick blanket of red velvet.

"The white Dementor."

He was on his side, his hooded face turned to the other side.

 _His fingers brushed his robe when it escaped from them like a wisp of fog, before the pale appearance disappeared around the corner. "So soft .- whispered, looking surprised at his own hand. Soft. Something cold leaving a tingling on the fingers, almost intangible as smooth as it was._ Harry recalled it perfectly.

Was really so good touching it? Needing to know, Harry reached out and gently touched his covered by the robe shoulder. A pleasant shiver ran through his fingers:

"So soft ..." - His fingers roamed the contour of the shoulder gently, a feather like touch.

Draco felt someone touching his shoulder and his senses were put on alert immediately. He sat up abruptly and pushed away the attacker. His hand hit ... Air?

Harry put his hand away quickly, surprised by the reaction of the creature. When the Dementor hit him sliding his cloak to the floor, and leaving him exposed.

"You!" - Draco said seeing Potter emerge from thin air. Immediately he put his hand to his mouth. "No - He thought hysterically- If Potter discovers me I will be thrown in that cell again. No, nonononono. I will not survive it again. I can´t go back to that hell."

He felt the beginning of a panic attack taking rot in his mind. Immediately Draco lowered his head hiding his face in the shadow of the hood, gasping. His muscles tightening brutally, when Potter came even closer. Grasped the cloth of his tunic in his hands, to avoid the auror noticing his trembling.

"I knew you understood me." - Harry said softly with a smile.

The Dementor seemed terrified. Taut as a violin string. He put the wand in his belt and raised his hands to show that he didn´t want to hurt him.

 _"He looks so scared ..."_ So fragile in the centre of the huge bed, that for a moment Harry felt the need to hug the pale apparition.

"Hermione's right, I have a hero complex," he told himself slightly amused. Anyone who knew that he felt the need to protect a Dementor, surely would die of laughter.

"Hey, quiet, I´m not going to hurt you."

Draco swallowed convulsively. Thinking: "I ... I haven´t been discovered" he let out the breath didn´t know he'd been holding, shakily. Raised slightly his hooded eyes, knowing the shadow would prevent Harry seeing his face.

"Why are you so scared that I know you can talk?" - The dark haired man asked sweetly.

Draco couldn´t believe his luck. It seemed the auror hadn't noticed anything... Maybe he could use him to help his needs. He seems to be preoccupied for him after all. And grimaced, since Harry couldn´t see it. "Potter hasn´t changed anything." Draco remembered the hero complex of the Auror, and unhealthy habit of caring for any helpless creature, starting with Longbottom. He evaluated the pros and cons. "It's worth a try. I can´t tell the whole truth, but I can say part of it. After all, the lies based on truth are easier to remember."

He let his shoulders fall slightly:

"It's... Only the Lord is allowed to speak." - His voice trembling slightly, trying by all means to sound soft. He didn´t want to be recognized.

Harry felt a pang of tenderness… "Wait! Since when Dementors cause positive feelings? " Harry looked down slightly, pretending to be compassionate. "A white Dementor who produces tender feelings, not frightening ones, (he realized that he had never felt uneasy in the presence of the elusive creature), who is afraid of me and don´t want to talk: Malfoy" Although how so an unpleasant person had learned to look even delicate, escaped him entirely. "Azkaban does strange things to the mind of its inhabitants" The memory of Sirius reappearing for a moment. How he had managed to escape and pose as a Dementor he didn´t know, but he would make sure it didn´t pass again.

"Why don´t we stop playing Malfoy?"- He hissed.

Draco drew back terrified, not fast enough to stop Potter, who in one fluid motion grabbed him by the shoulders and slammed them boot into the mattress, holding the blond with his weight and clamping his legs with his.

Draco felt the wave of panic that he had been trying to contain finally break the weak wall of his sanity, eroded to almost the insanity from years of imprisonment and torture. The grasping hands on his shoulders, holding it as shackles, the unwanted weight on him, bringing too many nightmarish memories, the inability to move...

"Why don´t you show me your face?" - Harry's voice full of venom was mixed with another he wanted to forget. _"Why don´t you show me your face? You look even more beautiful when you cry."_

Harry grabbed his hood and pulled sharply. Draco screamed like a banshee.

The Auror pulled back abruptly at finding himself looking directly at the face of a screaming Dementor. And being beaten by an aura full of terror, that left him dizzy and disoriented for a moment, despite his training.

He jumped instantly away from the bed.

"What have I done? I thought it was Malfoy, but ... "He took his wand helplessly watching the screaming Dementor arch his back so much it looked like he were going to break.

The sound of wood hitting the ground…

Someone was coming.

Quickly he covered himself with the invisibility cloak again and hid in the corner of the room, far away from the bed.

Lady Margaret heard the cry of her boy and dropped the bucket she was holding, pouring dirty water on the floor and running to Draco's room, completely terrified.

"Please, don´t anything happen to him, not to my child. Not again "She burst into the room.

"What happened? - Ran up to the bed - Draco! Draco, can you hear me?" – She shook him gently and patted his face, but the blond didn´t react. He kept screaming.

"What do I do, what can I do?"

Harry watched under his cloak, invisible in the corner, as the new Dementor tried unsuccessfully to get a reaction from the smaller one. He couldn´t understand his hissing, but if a Dementor could sound concerned, this would.

His conscience was like a scream in his head, signalling all of this was his fault. And he didn´t know how to help. The wand painfully hard grasped in his hand, feeling useless.

Suddenly, the temperature dropped dramatically. Then a terrifying aura of terror coming closer, and finally, the rapid decrease of light in the room moments before the Dementor Lord entered, followed by another Dementor a couple of steps behind, his head respectfully lowered.

"My Lord!" - Margaret ran to kneel at the feet of the Lord. – "I don´t know what happened. He doesn't react."

The Dementor Lord gave her a disdainful look, and the other dementor that had come with him, immediately rushed her away dragging Margaret by her robe.

"Please have your way, My Lord." - He said politely.

Harry saw this. And although he couldn't understand what they said, he didn´t like the way the Lord and the other treated the one who came first, and that seemed to be trying to help the white.

The Dementor Lord approached the bed where the delicate creature still remained rigid and screaming.

"Draco, Draco.-the name sounded like an act of disapproval in his mouth.- This is what passes for not listening to me.- Leaned over him .- In the end, you need me."- With rare delicacy he took him in his arms.

Harry didn´t understand the words of the Lord of the Dementors, maybe because this time he wasn´t talking to humans. But saw with horror as the aberrant creature took in his arms the little Dementor. Furiously clenching his teeth resisted the urge to come out of hiding and stop him.

Cold, very cold. Soft lips. Quiet, a calm that could only be achieved in death. Draco was wrapped in it. Slowly he began to regain consciousness. Something warm came in his mouth and he had to swallow. Immediately he felt much better, no longer hungry. His lashes flickered slightly. The Dementor Lords face so close ... He pushed him breaking the kiss.

"Don´t touch me!" - The Lord released him, and Draco immediately threw his hood to hide his face in the quiet darkness. Turning away from the monster.

Harry felt a deep disgust and anger when he saw the Lord kiss the pale Dementor. That thing filled with darkness, dirtying something so delicate. Wrapping it in his robe until he could barely see it. He felt his own power beginning to escape his control. So when he heard the little one finally react with a resounding Don´t! He felt relieved.

"Why can I understand him, but not the others?"

"You are an ungrateful bastard Malfoy! If not for our Lord you would still be writhing on your pathetic nightmare." - Hissed the Dementor who appeared to accompany the dark leader.

"Enough already, William. –Intervened the Lord gently, stopping on the spot his servant. – Yet, Draco, you have to realize what your situation is, see reason."

Approached the white with the intention of touching his cheek, but Draco pulled away.

"What have you done?" – He asked, dreading the answer, but needing to know. The other smiled cruelly.

"Don´t worry. I couldn´t give you a soul even if I tried. You have to eat your first one by yourself. It was just a little memory so you could recover a bit."

The blond shuddered with disgust and fear. _"No, please don´t. This will speed up the change"_ He began to feel colder, and Harry must know his secret. He couldn´t understand why he hadn´t imprisoned him yet.

His eyes started stinging, his throat under a knot.

"Leave me in peace." - said weakly.

The Lord came and Draco didn´t have the strength to reject him this time, when the monster decided to leave a kiss on his cheek.

"Whatever you want. We will go ... for now. William picks up that useless thing!" - The servant caught Margaret dragging her with them. But she didn´t mind the rough treatment, so happy that the small one was fine...

"Thanks, thanks, o thanks Lord for helping him." - The Dementor Lord didn´t even look at her.

When the door closed behind the three Draco felt his legs no longer able to hold him up, and dropped to his knees, trembling. "Malfoys don´t cry!" He said to himself furiously, but nevertheless, tears started rolling down his cheeks.

"What shall I do?"

Harry waited for the sound of the Dementors in the hall to disappear, before getting out from under the cloak.

Seeing the little Dementor on the floor, shaking between sobs ... he couldn´t resist it. The auror dropped at his side.

Draco hipped between sob and sob. He wanted to ask if he was going to be arrested now, but had no strength left.

"I'm sorry." - Harry whispered hugging him.

A lazy hug that didn´t made Draco feel caught, if not strangely comforted. The Auror wanted to grab and hug him tightly against his chest, protect the little one so no one could hurt him again, but he knew that that would only scare him.

Finally Draco began to relax, and after a time rested his head on Harry's chest listening to the soothing beat of his heart.

"Thanks." - He whispered.

**It will continue.**


	6. Warm

 

**Harry Potter is property of JK Rowling. I write this out of pure personal pleasure, and the desire to bring happiness to other fans. And my pockets don´t want anything in return. Thanks.**

**Warning:** This story contains yaoi, it means love between men. As much as drama and suffering, supernatural creatures and sex related scenes.

 **Summary:** When seven years after the war, Draco Malfoy escapes from his cell in Azkaban, the ministry has no choice but to send his best Auror, Harry Potter, to capture him again. Between the walls of the world's toughest prison, Harry will discover not only the origin of the most terrifying creatures, but a love against time.

**Dementor Kiss**

**Chapter 6- Warm**

Harry, gently, took the little one in his arms, embracing him a little more firmly, seeking to comfort him with all his might. His conscience shouted he was to blame for the sobs, the trembling and the sudden fear. And Harry began to dread having really hurt him.

Under his hands, despite the softness of the tunic, he could feel sharp ribs under skin, a body so thin the auror thought that, embraced tighter, it may break as a porcelain ornament. Checking with his own hands how delicate the white dementor was, did nothing to alleviate the guilt he felt.

Something inside was crying out that he had to protect him.

Submerged in the hug, Draco, little, by little, started coming around. His nose sank gently in the shelter of Harrys chest, taking in his scent. The auror smelled of soap and sweat, and something powerfully masculine, that was, somehow, comforting. It gave him a feeling of warmth and security Draco had not really felt since being marked by the Dark Lord.

And for the first time since he was brought to Azkaban, he didn´t feel cold. Potter dissipated the freezing feeling with his mere presence, like his body was in flames within, as if under the skin he didn´t have meat, but fire.

The slytherin snuggled in the arms of the auror, letting himself be enveloped by the warmth. Feeling protected, safe from the horror he had had to suffer.

But…the little white began to shake again, the sobs returning slowly.

No longer hysterical, but weak and exhausted, filled with greater pain.

Harry hugged him a bit more tightly. He knew that kind of crying that seems broken inside. The one that came from the suffering of an injury, which, although closed, had leaved a scar so deep it would never totally disappear.

He knew it well, really so, because he had several identical scars. Sirius, Remus, so many loved ones killed in the war ... a pain he could never forget. And from experience he knew that there was very little that others could do to help. All he could do was hold him and wait. Make him feel that he was not alone. Not anymore.

Draco began to mourn again; I hurt all over. His body, his heart… even if he was already used to it, it hurt so much...  The selfless embrace of Harry had awakened the feeling again. The pain, like a wound taken so long ago, that eventually you learn to live with it. You get used to its presence and its pain becomes bearable, although at first it was terrible. And so, when finally you get relief and lose the numbness, it's much more painful to return to it. He knew that if he ended in that hell again, now, after the warm comfort of Potter, he would go mad. Yet Draco also knew he could not avoid ending up there.

“Please.” – He said weakly, almost no strength left in his voice.

In that instant he hated himself for being so weak. For needing both the auror and his warmth, his comfort. For wanting him despite knowing that much of the blame for his suffering was his. He hated Potter, but much more himself. And yet, despite all, the words left his lips, broken and trembling:

“ .. Will… will you come to visit? Only… once?” - Draco breathed shakily. –“If only… if only you could come once ... I think… I think I could handle it.” - He knew it was foolish to cling to hope. His life was broken and had been so for so long ... why try to find relief? Yes, Harry made him feel a bit more whole, but Draco would always be missing pieces that could not be recovered. The auror would leave. And then he would have to live a little more broken, a little less alive.

He closed his eyes, because looking at his face while Harry refused, would be too much.

The broken voice almost like a plea, the delicate quivering of his shoulders, the slight sobs… The terrible pain that seemed to be finally breaking him.

Harry didn´t have to think:

“I will come every day, I promise.” - His voice full of determination.

Surprised Draco looked up slowly. Grey misty eyes came across a green, intense as Avada Kedavra. The force of that gaze took his breath away.

“I swear.”- Harry repeated.

Finally, the air began to get back to Dracos lungs. _"What did he just say?"_

“...!” - Suddenly Harry picked him up, and took him to the bed, where he was carefully laid. Draco tried to ask what he was doing, but Harry raised his hand to ask for silence:

“Not now, you need to rest.” - _"He's on the verge of a nervous breakdown"_ Harry thought to himself. Carefully covering the little one whit some blankets. – “Try to get some sleep; we will talk in the morning.”

The sleeping spell cast by Harry in a whispered voice, softly sank Draco into a pleasant slumber without nightmares.

* * *

Harry leaned heavily against the door of the room he had just left. Inside, the White dementor was sleeping peacefully.

And Harrys mind couldn´t stop the train of thoughts brined by what he had just saw.  "Something terrible has had, or still is, happening to him." - He felt a pang igniting the protective nature inside himself. - "I want to help, but ..."- The mission was a priority. As much as he wanted to help, he couldn´t do it seriously till they had found out what had happened to Malfoy. - "Then I only have to find what´s happening here soon enough to help."- He burrowed deeper in the invisibility cloak. Something was telling him that the answers he sought were in the tower. - "And maybe I can discover something more that isn´t about Malfoy." -He looked one last time toward the door, and began advancing down the corridor.

* * *

After talking to Harry and sending his Patronus to warn Ron that he had to keep an eye on Thomas, Hermione had decided to investigate on her own the basements. If the guards actually had something to do with what had happened to Malfoy, an increasingly likely possibility, going with one of them to try to find him, would be futile. The culprit would try to keep her from finding Malfoy, not help her with it.

Hermione, slyly threw a new locator spell at Henry, and headed to the fourth floor of the basement. Where were, supposedly, the most dangerous magical creatures.

Technically, she had promised Harry that she would watch over Henry, but ... -" He isn´t going to do nothing suspicious around me. Then, since he doesn't know how far I have gone, I don't think anything will happen. And… he didn´t want me to come closer to this section.” So, logically, here was where she had headed.

 _“Why don´t we start from the fourth floor and go up from there?”_ – She had asked.

_“No, it's too dangerous, it would be best to go with Tomas joining us, he knows this area better.”_

"He seemed nervous and didn´t want to come here without his partner. I bet his hiding something."

Slowly, Hermione went down the last flight of stairs wand in hand. The torchlight was usually low in Azkaban, but here the shadows lengthened in an even drearier atmosphere.

She looked back before descending the last steps, making sure, she told herself, that Henry hadn´t followed. Although, she knew from the spell she had thrown no later than a quarter hour before, he had not.

The auror swallowed nervously, everything was too quiet down here.

Hermione descended to a moss-covered hall, full of the smell of salt and dead seaweed, the ground waterlogged. Clearly this floor descended under sea level. The corridor was flanked by latticed metal gates. Beside some doors, claw marks that had raised the scum from the walls and marred the stone below, could be seen. As if the prisoners had extended their arms out of the cell, just to scratch the rock.

Everything was quiet, the only sounds that of the water drops against stone and her breathing. Mione cast a waterproof spell on her boots and began to advance.

Peered into each cell, one by one, searching, but all offered very similar images; seeming asleep prisoners, still, pale as wax, purple circles under their eyes, looking so quite.... like they weren´t even breathing.

"This has to be the vampires section." And since it was day, everyone was asleep.

She continued to move through the reeking water, the stench becoming increasingly unpleasant. The so still figures of the prisoners making her uneasy. They gave the feeling of being in a crypt. In a tomb. Somewhere dead and freezing. Hermione shook her head trying to get over that stupid feeling. Grabbed her wand more tightly, looked inside the next cell...

Laying on the only mattress, a still figure not unlike the rest, pale, haggard ... hands resting on a broad chest like a dead man, was…

His wavy black hair, so black that seemed to absorb light. His noble features, muscular body, a boyish face that hadn´t changed in seven years. Since the last time she saw him at Hogwarts… where unmistakable.

“Blaise Zabini.” - A weak whisper.

She had read in the newspaper during the late war, how both he, Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson had been caught trying to hide in an abandoned house. Sentenced to Azkaban, and dispossessed of all their goods.

These three were very good friends, always going together everywhere. Almost like her with Ron and Harry.

"That's why Henry didn´t want me coming here ..." If Malfoy had escaped was very possible that he had contacted Blaise.

“Enervate!” She called.

Blaise felt a shock of magic trace all his body, and opened his dull red eyes. Looked toward the door...

"It seems I have finally lost his head. Granger?”

“Zabini.” – The auror replied impassively.

The vampire sat up in one fluid motion, like a snake, moving to the bars in front of her. His look, puzzled, while he studied her up and down, like deciding if indeed she was a chimera of his imagination, was something sharply uneasy.

An now that the hall light was better falling on the man, Hermione could see the dirt that covered him, the tattered state of his clothes, and the colour of his eyes. They weren´t brown like she remembered, they were red, red as well of dried blood. As a wolfs snout.

Finally the vampire looked at her face, seemingly having offed his surprise:

“So you are an Auror?” – He said dispassionately. Looking at the official coat she wore.

“Yes.” – Mione retorted squaring her shoulders. Her tone became more authoritarian.- “I'm here to ask you some questions.”

“About what? Since I talked all I knew, when we were dragged here.” – His voice monotonous, but with an acid undertone that spooked about how painful it must have been. Blaise sat back a top the filthy mattress.

“About Malfoy. –She replied- You may not know, but he escaped from his cell five days ago. If he´s looking for someone, that ought to be you. - She pointed her wand at him- You can talk by choice or by force, Zabini. Your choice.”

The Italians expression changed to something dangerous, but he didn´t move from his position on the pallet:

“I know nothing. All I know is that five days ago, one of you, dogs of the ministry, bled me to lethargy.” - He hissed. His eyes showed a red gloss, like a film of blood.

“Who?” - Asked Mione, several defensive spells on the tip of her tongue.

“Don´t know, but he was wearing the guards uniform.”

Suddenly, a strange sound as of bells reached their ears.

“The alarm” – She murmured. The spell she had cast to now when dinner time approached, so she could go meet Henry, without raising suspicions.

“Did you have to go?” - Blaise asked. For some reason, for a moment, he almost seemed to want her to stay.

“Would you miss me?” – Hermione asked raising an eyebrow.

“It's possible.” - Blaise smiled faintly, showing a pair of sharp fangs.

The auror stood a moment longer, and then started walking back to the first basement.

* * *

Harry studied the tapestries hanging from the walls of the hall, as he went further and further inside, but no other else called him as much as that of Hogwarts.

He had been touring this floor for a while, and had found bedrooms, bathrooms and a broom closet. All bated in the golden light of candles. It was like walking through an antiquated and tarnished noble mansion, which nevertheless still retained its royal dignity.

Finally, he found a spiral flight of stairs carved in stone, with hand supports engraved as if they were serpents that rose from some floor below, and continued through to some superior one.

"I must be in a halfway floor. So, now, towards were I go? Up or down?" Asked himself. Finally deciding to go up. But when he was going to start walking, the alarm of his wand, bell-like sound that only he could hear, took of shouting. He had to return to the guard room already.

* * *

A pair of elves appeared with a pot of soup and a plate of jelly fish, and placed them in the table in front of the patrons.

“Have you had any luck?” - Henry asked as he poured a piece of fish in his plate.

“Not yet, but we hope to find something tomorrow. -Harry replied, cutting the bread.

Both the three Aurors, and the two guards, where having dinner together, as a way to _catch up with their investigation._ The Aurors didn´t trust the guards one bit.

“Hopefully, your methods will be more successful.”- Tomas said acidly. He took a spoonful of soup to his mouth and sucked noisily. Hermione frowned.

“Well for now the doors at each level are sealed, so unless he´s is a Dementor or a guard, Malfoys not going anywhere.”

“Which reminds me, that we shouldn´t leave the kitchen unattended.” -Said Ron. Harry nodded.

“Now it´s being watched by a couple of elves, but the best would be for we to take the work in our hands.”

“Then we should do guards. How about if Tomas and me take care of it tonight?” - Henry graciously offered, while he finished chewing a mouthful of fish. The Aurors accepted.

For almost ten minutes Henry and Thomas had been gone to their guard in the kitchen, and finally, after a bubble of silence spell from Hermione, just in case, the Aurors stopped pretending to be asleep and stood ready to action. Ron immediately took his boots:

“I'm going now to watch that two.” - Harry nodded and pulled the invisibility cloak from his bag:

“Take it, you'll need it.” – Said, throwing it. His friend grabbed the silky material at fly.

“If something happens I will send a signal. - finished tying his boots. - See you.” - After ensuring that no one in the hall was watching, the red head quickly left hidden under the coat.

“Take care.” - Hermione said almost to herself. Cast the spell detector to warn them if anyone came into the room, and sat next to Harry on the pallet. His friend looked thoughtful.

“Did you find anything?” - Asked the black haired Auror straightening. "I have to focus on the case."- Told himself. But what happened to the white dementor kept haunting his brain.

Hermione looked at him seriously.

“This afternoon, I found Zabini in a cell.”

“Malfoy's friend? What does he do in the basement? I thought there were contained only to the magical creatures." -Zabini also retained here... And the guards hadn´t told them anything. He didn´t like, it was increasingly clear that they have to be the culprits.

“Apparently, he´s now a vampire. I don´t know how he became one, didn´t ask. But he said that the day Malfoy disappeared, one of the guards bled him to unconsciousness.”- Some achievement that of bringing a vampire to unconsciousness.

“Can we trust his word?” –He asked.

“I think so, he wouldn´t invent something like that for nothing.”- And Blaise had looked so emaciated ... she shook her head. She shouldn´t be thinking about the physical condition of a prisoner.

Harry frowned.

“It can´t be more than  deep dark magic.- disgust came over him, just thinking that someone might want to practice it, churning his gut. - So we have one, or several guards, practicing magic blood on Malfoy, and we don´t know why.”

Mione nodded.

“The only good thing is that there are not many blood related spells, so it will be easier to find the one employed. I could send a letter to MacGonnagal, and ask her if she could send us some books about it. Surely she has one at least that could help. It doesn’t exist today a day, a magic library larger than the one at Hogwarts, after all.”-  If she sent the letter now, the volumes could be here tomorrow. Hermione chewed her hair thoughtfully, mentally cataloguing all she had to look in them. –

“What was it like for you in the tower?” -She asked.

“ ... I've seen the white dementor again, Mione.” – That took her full attention, curious to know more.

“I talked to him, but I think even he has nothing to do with the case, he may need help. He isn´t... healthy. – Harry sighed. - I think something's wrong whit him, something terrible, Hermione. He was crying and shaking, and I know it has something to do with the Dementor Lord.”

Mione shook her head.

“Harry. Look, not that I condom you worrying about bad people, not even about a dementor. But we are on an important mission. If more prisoners of Azkaban escape ... - her eyes darkened with memories. - You know what happened last time. - She looked at him all serious. – You have to focus. Worry about him when this is resolved. Until then I want you to promise me that you aren´t going to look for him.”

“But Hermione ...”

“No! Harry, no. This is much more important than a Dementor. I know you, so right now promise me you will not go to him.”

Harry gritted his teeth. He understood perfectly the position of his friend, but ... _"I swore I would go see him, I swore I would!"_

“Hermione ... I can´t, really I can´t. He needs me.”

“What about all the people who live out there, and you're threatening?” – She said angrily. The blame struck Harry like a sword.

“I'm not forgetting them. It will only take some minutes a day Hermione. I will not leave the mission.”

“You think so now, but you will.” - Said she knowing what she spoke about. Hermione sighed. –“You will not be able to avoid worrying about him, and you will, eventually, want to help. And you will lose a valuable research time, finding a solution to a problem that doesn´t concern you. - Put her hand on his. - You know I´m right. Now, please, promise me.”

Harry looked away feeling divided. The small dementor needed him. The way he had asked to meet again... it was almost as if he was asking one last favour. He couldn´t let the promise go.

On the other hand, he understood perfectly the reasoning of Hermione. Deep down he knew she was right. But...

“I can´t.”

“Yes you can. He will not die, Harry. You can help later.”

He looked at her grimly.

“You can´t know that Hermione. You haven´t seen him.”

“Harry, I know what I´m speaking about. Dementors can´t die, it’s part of their nature.” - She said in the tone that always wore when exposing a piece of knowledge unknown to others.

Her friend looked puzzled.

“I didn´t know.”

“Now that you do, you can relax. So, do you promise?” - She insisted.

Harry hesitated. Hermione gave him a pleading look.

“Okay ... I'm not going to see him. For now.” - Said defeated. He felt as if he was condemning the small white one to death.

“You did the right thing.” - Hermione smiled at her friend.

“I hope so.” - But deep down, he felt like he was making a mistake for which he would feel more than sorry.

* * *

“ ... Co ... Aco ...”- Draco slowly opened his eyes, the light from the window illuminated the room grimly. It must have just dawned.

“I brought you breakfast.”

He turned his head toward the voice of Lady Margaret, who smiled kindly.

“Good morning.” – Draco said softly. He felt drained, but with the brain much clearer than it had been in days.

“I've been calling, but you slept like a rock.” – The tone sweet and maternal.

Draco frowned confused. Usually he didn´t get long sleeps. Maybe a couple hours straight, before nightmares waked him. But never so long as today.

“Although it´s normal to be exhausted after the attack you had yesterday. Did you feel better?” – The female dementor asked worried, as she touched his forehead. Draco caught the shudder of disgust that tried to surface in his skin at the contact, and held it tight. Not wanting to upset the kind woman.   _"She isn´t guilty of looking like a muddy corpse."_

“Yesterday…” - Questions danced in his brain, still half asleep. Then, suddenly, he remembered:

_"Hey, calm down, I will not hurt you.”_

_“Why are you so scared that I know you can talk?”_

" _Maybe ... maybe I can use him to have some help."_

_“Why don´t we play, Malfoy?”_

_Screams._

_“... Wi… will you come at least? Even if it’s only once?”_

_“Every day, I promise.”_

He shivered up and down, but didn´t know if it was from discomfort or... _"Why didn´t he locked me up?"_ He thought.

Margaret looked at his long silence worried. And Draco shook his head.

“No ... no, I'm fine.” - Everything that had happened ... and yet Harry had not locked him in that cell. But he removed the hood, had to have seen him. He knew Draco. That hug ... he had apologized. -“I don´t understand”

Margaret sat beside him in the bed, quiet and sweet.

“You can tell me, honey. I know that something´s in your head.” - And patted his hand reassuringly.

Draco looked up into her muddy eyes. There hadn´t been many people who had been kind to him lately. And Lady Margaret had cared for him since the first day he was dragged to the tower. And even if he knew that the Lord had subjugated all the Dementors of Azkaban, he needed to talk...

“The other day, when I went for a walk in the prison ...” - he said carefully _. "I can´t tell the truth"_

“Yes?” – She asked affectionately.

“There was a time when I took off my hood. I know I should not do it outside of the tower, but no one was around and it was bothering me.”

Margaret nodded.

“But there was someone. One of the Aurors who came that day, saw me. But ... I don´t understand, he didn´t try to lock me up again. Why? It's almost as if ... as if he didn´t knew who I was.”

Lady Margaret patted his hand gently.

“Surely he didn´t recognize you.”

“But he saw me directly. I can´t be losing my humanity so fast ... can I?” - Asked worriedly.

“You shouldn´t worry so much, being a Dementor is not so bad.” - said kindly, but when she saw Draco's face ...

“Were you scared?” – Margaret asked suddenly.

“Yes ... Does it matter?” – Draco blinked perplexed.

“Of course it matters. Our aura of terror not only works as an attack, but as a defence as well. If you were scared enough, even if you aren´t a full dementor, surely, unwittingly, you employed it. Thus what the auror saw, wasn´t you, Draco. But a Dementor like the others. The aura of terror, after all, is what makes us scary to others, and make us look as monsters.” - She chattered.

 _"Then Potter didn´t recognize me. So that´s why he apologized."_ Draco sighed in relief. _"He has promised to come see me."_ Couldn´t suppress the pleasant sensation that rose in his chest, like a small ember of heat.

 _"But remember that if there´s someone to blame for your current situation, that is Potter."_ His conscience whispered. "I know all the blame is his. - he retorted internally- But he´s also, perhaps, the only one who can help me." "And above all else, I am a Slytherin and a Malfoy, I seize every opportunity." And decided to pretend, he had not felt the warm feeling of nostalgia, that came over him as he recalled the aurors embrace.

He smiled slightly.

“I'm glad you feel better.” - Margaret said encouraged at seeing his fragile smile, something she had never seen him do. The lady rose from the bed vigorously.-  “And now to take breakfast young man. You need to eat well.”

The breakfast had been good and Draco wasn´t hungry anymore.

Although, he feared that his lack of appetite had more to do with the memory that the Dementor Lord had given him, than with what Lady Margaret had brought for breakfast.

He was sitting on the stone seat by the window, watching the wan light that managed to pass the thick barrier of clouds and mist. And the rough sea, bellow. Huddling a little more in his coat, feeling his skin increasingly colder, but nonetheless Draco would be watching the coming and going of the waves all the time he could endure.

It was reassuring.

The first time in a long time, he didn´t feel like bursting in mourn, or start crying.

The smell of Harry, his warmth, his voice ... came to his mind again and again, like the waves. A balm to soothe his senses.

The little white rested his head on the stone. It felt so good… _"I will come see you every day."_  "I'm waiting... Harry." He smiled slightly, it was the first time he called Potter by name, if only in his head.

“Bang, bang, bang!” – The knock at the door startled him. He straightened.

“Come in.”

William, the servant of the Lord, walked proudly inside, as if everything was his.  Draco squared his shoulders. If there was someone in the tower that he disliked almost as much as the Dementor Lord, that was him.

“What?” – Draco asked putting his most pure blooded tone, the one his parents had instilled so deeply in him it was second nature.

The other Dementor, a head taller than Draco, approached him, just making sure the white one took in the difference of height. The blond young man didn´t let it frighten him in the least.

“So proud you are. Especially considering that yesterday the whole tower heard your screaming.”

“You came looking for something, or just needing someone to listen to your tedious talk?” – Malfoy retorted haughtily.

William glared at him.

“The Dementor Lord wants to see you.”

Draco gulped, but didn´t let the other see how his words had affected him.

“All right. Tell him I'll go as soon as possible.”

“He wants to see you now. Even asked me to escort you to his rooms.” - Draco knew he couldn´t refuse, or it would be, much, much, worse.

“ ... Okay.” - He walked out, followed by William. Although inside, it was like walking to the gibbet. _"Harry... Where are you?"_

* * *

The room in the top floor of the tower was the most luxurious of all.

One of its walls was made of glass. The magnificent Gryffindor crest beautifully carved in it. Although the once, gleaming under the sunlight, flooding the room in gold and crimson colours, image, now was dusty and ignored under years of neglect.

However the rest of the room was clean and maintained.

On one side, a huge carved marble fireplace, showed what seemed like rampant lions roaring in it. The bed of solid wood, engraved with magnificent phoenix and the Gryffindor crest. The worn canopy crimson with gold embroidery made of heavy velvet. The floor almost entirely covered with gold and crimson carpets… It all worn, dull, but yet still beautifull.

The walls were almost entirely covered with shelves of ancient books, and the centre of the room was occupied by a table and two chairs made of dark wood and covered in sleek pillows. In the background a couch with cushions could be seen.

All of it illuminated by the golden light of hundreds of candles, and the orange bright one of the roaring fire.

If he hadn´t known better, Draco could almost have been deceived by the apparent warmth off the place. But since he knew what awaited inside, just crossing the threshold made him shiver in cold.

Despite the fireplace, the temperature was ice like, the candles lit didn´t glow even half of what they should...

The Lord got up from his shadowed in the corner chair.

“Welcome to mi chambers Draco.” - His hissing voice made the slytherin shiver.

“Lord.” - He merely answered.

The Lord told his servant to go, who hastily bowed before leaving the room, closing the door behind himself.

Now they were alone.

“Draco ... don´t be so nervous. It's not as if we hadn´t talked about this before.” –Said with an undertone of danger. Draco swallowed hard but managed to stay upright and not tremble.

“Come, sit down with me.” - The Lord took his hand gently, lax in his. And led him to the couch. Draco followed without resistance. Now remembering what happened the day before, and how among his panic attack he had cried and refused the Dementor Lord…He began to feel the fear in his stomach coiling like a snake.

Draco was made to sit on the couch, next to the terrifying Lord.

“You don´t have to be so scared.” – It whispered, stroking the hand that he had not yet released, with the thumb. Draco made a supreme effort not to move away in disgust.

“I'm not going to punish you for yesterday, I understand you were having a panic attack.”

Malfoy almost sighed in relief.

“However…” - the little hand was squeezed until Draco thought it would break. He could not avoid making a low moan of pain, but did not dare let anything louder leave his throat.

“I hope it doesn't repeat.”

“No... It won´t repeat.” - His voice breathy.

“Well. – The Lord loosened the delicate palm in his hand. Carefully removing the hood that covered Draco, admiring his stunning, yet, so sad, face. - I know you are not ready.” -He said stroking his cheek.

Draco fought back the nausea that aroused at the contact. He wanted to run far away, but knew he could not.

“Unfortunately, we can´t do anything really fun until you turn completely into one of us.” - Began stroking the rosy lips with his forefinger.

Draco wanted to close his eyes, pretend that this wasn´t happening, but if he did, he would only win more tortures. He knew it from experience.

“But ... we can still have fun together.” – hissed the monster. Seductively pressing a little in more. – “Open your mouth.”

Draco obeyed, half-opening his lips. The digit slid between them to caress his tongue. His stomach turned over, and for a second the blond thought he would vomit what little he had for breakfast. But he managed to restrain himself.

“Good boy. - Whispered the Lord. Draco felt like screaming. –Suck it.”

Slowly Draco began caressing the thumb with his tongue. _"Don´t think about it, don´t think about it, don´t think abou..."_ He desperately repeated inside. Wanted to sink into the abyss without emotion, where he was able to disconnect what happened to his body with what was in his head. But knew he couldn´t until the situation came to a point, that he wasn´t really able to bear. It was his only defence mechanism, and what had kept him sane during those seven years.

The invasive sensation in his mouth slowly withdrew, to be replaced immediately by the tongue of the Dementor Lord. Who slid it inside like a serpent stroking every corner. Draco dug his nails into his palms, concentrating on the pain to not vomit. The Dementors putrid saliva mixed with his, leaving a taste of death that Draco hated with all his might. When he felt that he couldn´t endure a second more, finally the wet appendix retreated.

The Dementor Lord watched him, as he licked his lips like he had tasted something delicious. Draco dug his nails harder in his palms. Even when he felt something wet, and knew it was his blood, he didn´t care. Anything was better than this.

“Undress.” – The monster hissed lasciviously.

Slowly he stood, legs trembling. Gathered all his will, even though inside he felt like he was breaking into pieces, and took a hand to the fabric.

The tunic of a Dementor is a part of himself, if not more important than a couple of hairs. They don´t feel pain if it´s torn, and sooner or later it fixes itself. But it takes a conscious effort to separate the fabric of the body.

He swallowed convulsively, trying to concentrate, but could not. He could not. Would not. All his essence revealed at the thought of being exposed to the creature. He began to tremble slightly, the punishment would be terrible.

“Well?” - Asked the Lord.

“I cannot.” - Said barely louder than a whisper, looking down.

“I see ... - Draco hugged himself terrified. - Draco this is for your sake. The sooner you learn, the sooner you will stop suffering.”

"Leave me alone I will not learn anything from you!"

He was brutally stamped to the wall.

* * *

The pain almost plunged him into unconsciousness, and Draco regretted that it hadn´t.

He felt vaguely how William turned to leave the room, closing the door behind himself.

And he moaned weakly, it hurt so much ... He couldn´t move.

Draco began to mourn in silence, powerless to do anything else.

_"He smelled of soap and sweat, and something powerfully masculine, that was, somehow, comforting._

Warmth and security.

He felt protected, safe from the horror that he had to suffer.

_"I'll come every day, I promise."_

"Harry ... Where are you?"

It hurt so very much...

**(It will continue)**

**Note:** The next chapter will explain the torture. Promise ^ ^

 


	7. Ice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Torture, pain, and o so much guilt.

**Harry Potter is property of JK Rowling. I write this out of pure personal pleasure, and the desire to bring happiness to other fans. And my pockets don´t want anything in return. Thanks.**

**Warning:** This story contains yaoi, it means love between men. As much as drama and suffering, supernatural creatures and sex related scenes.

**Summary:** When seven years after the war, Draco Malfoy escapes from his cell in Azkaban, the ministry has no choice but to send his best Auror, Harry Potter, to capture him again. Between the walls of the world's toughest prison, Harry will discover not only the origin of the most terrifying creatures, but a love against time.

**Note:** So much thanks for all your support. ^^

**Dementor Kiss**

**Chapter 7-Ice**

_"He smelled of soap and sweat, and something powerfully masculine, that was, somehow, comforting._

_Warmth and security._

_He felt protected, safe from the horror that he had to suffer. "_

_"I'll come every day, I promise."_

_"Harry ... Where are you?"_

_It hurt so very much..._

* * *

Draco swallowed convulsively, trying to concentrate, but was unable. He couldn´t. Wouldn´t. All his being revolved at the mere thought of getting exposed to that creature. He began to tremble, knowing the punishment would be terrible.

"Well?" – The question calm, almost bored.

Draco just couldn´t do it. "I can´t…" - He said, barely louder than a whisper, his gaze on the floor, just so he didn´t have to watch it coming.

"I see ... – The sigh, so much cooler. The slyhterin hugged himself terrified. – Draco, is for your sake. The sooner you learn, the lesser you will suffer."-False kindness, frozen words.

_"Leave me alone, I will not learn anything from you!"-_ Draco thought inside, but unable to say the words aloud.

He felt the condensation of his breath ... The soft whisper of rope sliding down the carpet... Closed his eyes, began trembling slightly, and this time couldn´t stop it from griping his body. Couldn´t end the shivers that raked his frame.

The dark aura of the Lord expanded becoming more oppressive and frightening, wrapping him gently. His respiration faltered, the temperature in the room dropped to almost unbearable. The candles were extinguished one by one, the shadows lengthened covering everything.

Outside, the first wails of thunder could be heard.

The vapour that Draco was breathing, seemed to become ice.

The situation, too similar to his stay in the cell, and the disease that nearly killed him, awakened terror, despair ... inside himself. His ribs brutally oppressed his lungs, in a much afraid reaction to panic.

The pain was spreading all over his body, for the effort of standing the stifling presence, perceived only as a whisper of darkness that slowly entered his head, his body, his heart ... invading, dragging him. Hopes and dreams disappearing in the obscurity, slowly and thoroughly.

He stifled a groan of fear and hugged himself a little harder. The hot blood on his palms began to stain his robes a beautiful crimson. Wherever he clung to the fabric trying to find comfort, appeared deep red spots like rose petals.

The dark lord stopped in front of him, the anticipation, fear and terror of knowing what lay ahead were too much to continue silent.

"Please don´t ... "- His voice cracked, like glass shattering.

Despite having closed his eyelids, Draco could feel the moisture that threatened to soak his eyelashes. The self-hatred grew unbearable.

Silence reigned in the room ... not a whisper, not a rustle, not even the sound of another breath that was not the painful crawl of his own.

The blond inhaled shakily, a convulsion seemed to shake his frame with the effort.

"Please ..." – He begged, repeated, more brokenly. The effort of speaking claiming the already little oxygen from his lungs. Feeling disgusted by his own cowardice. But unable to bear this silently. He was so scared ... _"I can´t go through that. Not again…"_ He thought in the edge of sobbing.

He could feel the black aura so close ... the breath of death touching his skin. A presence made of static electricity, which attracted and frightened at once. He wanted to throw himself at his feet and beg, but a piece, just a trace of the prideful Malfoy he had been, refused to give up that last bit of dignity.

His body as tense as a violin string, remained paralyzed unable to react.

The Lord Dementors bony hands landed on his shoulders...

The feeling ... Draco recoiled. So cold and frightening ... that tore the little oxygen that had managed to catch his lungs, out. He began to cough powerless to take fresh air; his throat was dry as dust, like he had swallowed ash. Another seizure came, as a reaction of his body desperately straining for breath. But nothing came to his lungs. Draco clutched his chest where his heart was pumping like mad, opened his eyes filled with tears. Grey and misty as a rainy day. Behind the figure of the Lord Dementor, outside, the storm had broken. _"It's raining ..."_ the moisture on his cheeks ... and in the glass. Draco began to fall forward ... the hold he had on his body broken... and finally, all of him collapsed on the worn carpet. The feel of the wool under his cheek ... _"It's ... warm ..."_ Rain drops sliding down the glass ... then… darkness.

Draco opened his eyes… and the pain almost sent his mind tumbling again to unconsciousness. He closed his eyelashes in reflex, just waiting for everything to stop spinning.

A faint moan escaped his cracked lips. What had happened?

The memory returned slowly, made him tense, caused a violent coughing fit to resent his battered lungs.

When he finally got over it, his mind full of scary memories, and breathing laboriously, Draco realized… finally that he couldn´t fell the aura of the Dementor Lord.

"Then I´m alone... For now." -The former slytherin wasn´t under any delusion, about his punishment being over. But maybe, he could do something to placate things a little. Took a breath to calm down, and began analysing the situation.

"Okay ... it hurts ... I have something broken?" From experience, he knew that any other hurt should be healed more or less, by his well-seasoned inner magic, in a few days or so, but a bone break ... for that, he would need help, and didn´t know yet, if he was going to have any in his present predicament.

So the slytherin tried to get an idea of the magnitude of the damage, he appeared to have received. Gently moved each arm and leg, one by one, evaluating the response of each of them. - "Okay, it seems I have no arms or legs broken. But I´m chained" -The clink of metal when performing the movements, seemed to indicate it. - "And... I´m lying… on a puddle?" He could feel moisture soaking his skin. Some icy liquid he didn´t think was blood. If it had been cold blood, it would be dry and sticky, not liquid and freezing. But the surface on which he lay, seemed solid.

"A stone ... a cell?" -He swallowed convulsively.

Slowly Draco opened his eyes.

He was in a stone-walled space, dimly lit by a torch whose wan light only managed to deepen the shadows. Humidity permeated the atmosphere, and the ground was effectively waterlogged. Some moss growed on the walls. The spellbound metal door in front of him, seemed the only entrance, and there weren´t windows.

"At least it´s not as small as my old cell." -The thought wasn´t didn´t give him any solace.

Unable to move, Draco stared at the ceiling, entirely focused on the moisture stains streaking the stone. Anything that distracted his mind from the panic and memories...

_"You think you're worth something? No one cares about you ..."_

_"You should have died ..."_

_"Spread your legs for me, love ..."_

Draco closed his eyes tightly.

He needed to forget, needed to escape. He felt is breathing quicken. _"Please no, please no ..."_ "Enough! I don´t want to remember!"- Shout out loud, managing to suppress the voices and the memories... barely.

He clenched his jaw, and concentrated on sinking those reminiscences in the depths of his mind… and remembered… _"Hey, stay calm, I will not hurt you."_

_"Why are you so scared that I know you can talk?"_

_"Wi... will you come to visit, at least to once?"_

_"Every day, I promise"_

"Harry ..."- The memory of the Auror heated him inside, and took the nightmares away.

When finally, the squeak of the door opening came to his ears.

The Dementor Lord.

Every water drop on which the blond was lying, froze in contact with the robe of the terrible master. It felt like ice was forming in his hair, and in his own tunic. The breath of his lips turned into steam.

"I hope you've had time to think about your actions." - hissed at his side. Draco didn´t deign to answer.

_"Not now, you need rest."_ Harrys words pooled, in his mind.

From his position on the ground, he could see that the Lord had something in his hand. A finely carved golden box.

"I see ... I thought we had overcome this, Draco." – The terrible one said gently, as if scolding a disobedient child.

The white one, realized, that since awakening in the cell, the little spirit that he had left since he started becoming a dementor, seemed, suddenly, to have revived.

_"What have I been doing?" –_ Asked himself.

The last days his will had been gradually dying out, and he had slowly begun to become another of the faithful Lord Dementors puppets. But strangely, now, something seemed to have broken the ice cap that had been about to enslave his will. Why? _"Try to sleep a little, we will talk in the morning."_ The warmth of those words poured into his stomach, and seemed to melt the ice conjured by the mere presence of the Lord.

_"It´s because I'm remembering Potter?"_

Draco looked puzzled at the monster stalking him.

The Dementor Lord frowned. There was something in Draco that hadn´t been there last time. "I thought I had killed nearly all his happy memories" Annoyed by the delay in the emptying of the nasty bits of mankind, the Lord kicked the prisoner.

Draco caught his cry of pain _. "Definitely I have at least one broken rib."_ The kick seemed, to have touched a broken bone; he should have received the injury while unconscious. The slytherin gritted his teeth against the pain. _"A green as intense as the Avada Kedavra, warm an hot as a spell"_ The look of the Auror. Thinking about it, comforted him a little.

The Dementor Lord took a step forward, perceiving the presence of a pleasant memory.

_"I have to give him something else to think about"_ -A hissing and cruel laughter escaped from his throat, remembering what he had planned to do with the young blonde.

The black one sat by the little white, with a dripping venom smile marring his lips.

Draco swallowed. The smile gave him chills. _"Nestled in his arms, allowing himself to soak the aurors warmth."_

The Dementor Lord showed his sharp teeth in a grimace of disgust, when, after a slight shudder, the look he received from Draco was clear as crystal. Without fear.

He grabbed him by the chin brutally, taking his head toward him.

"Think you can fight me with a couple of ridiculous memories?" - He hissed menacingly.

The icy breath of the monster touched his face, smelling of death and putrefaction. The hand on his chin threatening to break his jaw.

He gathered his will. _"Draco buried his nose gently in Harry's coat, smelling of soap and sweat and something powerfully masculine"_ A shiver of pleasure ran through him at the memory.

Disgusted, the Dementor Lords claws dug in his cheek, blood began to trickle down Draco's chin and stained the white fabric of his robe.

"All right ... I thought to offer my gift later, but I see you are eager to take it."- The words so maliciously said reeked of venom. Then the Lord freed Draco from his claws, who´s head struck the stone at being released, but managed to contain any expression of pain.

The bony hands of the Dementor Lord unceremoniously tore his white, and already, tattered robe. Exposing to the dim light of the torch, a porcelain white skin, crossed again and again, with scars of past tortures. Some were still in the process of healing. The extreme thinness made his ribs clearly visible, the clavicles marked as a collar of bone. However, in a way that skirted tears, it was beautiful. The slenderness of the figure, the perfect proportions, the creamy skin, the incredibly narrow waist ... all of him talked about the pure blood elegance, only reached after generations of careful breeding.

"Beautiful ... "- muttered the Dementor Lord, possessively stroking the flat expanse of his belly.

Disgusted, Draco searched inside his mind for something strong enough to repel him, but could not remember anything quite warm, friendly and engaging enough for it.

_"Think, THINK Draco. Or are you going to let this monster..."_ He shivered and felt nauseated. The slight hissing laughter of the Lord came to his ears. His hands began to descend toward his thighs, _"I have to stop this now!"_

_"... Warm ... comforting arms surrounding his body, gently, very gently."_ He felt the hands were advancing more slowly. _"The smell ... of soap and sweat ... Harry. He sighed quietly, it felt so good ... protected."_ The hands had completely stopped in his waist. _"His chest, strong and broad, sheltering ... The touch of his hair on the face scrambled ... tickling ... – he smiled slightly."_ The cold palms left his body. _"The softness of his golden skin ... the intense green of his eyes ... A groan issued the delicate touch of his lips ..."_

A slap took him out of the dreams, in which he had not even realized had sunk.

The Dementor Lord was furious.

He didn´t know who had been Draco thinking about, but he had seen the tiny spark of love. Tiny, barely alive, but so beautiful. He felt disgusted. Repelled and furious to perceive a feeling that he had long since forgotten. For a moment he wanted to kill him ... but managed to restrain the need. _"Why kill him? When I´m finished, he would want to be dead... And he will be mine."_ The Lord laughed insanely, coldly, at the mere thought.

Draco swallowed hard listening to the crazy sound, a mixture of hiss and laugh. And yet, he felt worse when the creature stroked his cheek in a mock imitation of affection.

"Whom were you dreaming about ... um? – He said sweetly. And bent to touch his lips to the pale ear. - You will regret it... And plead for mercy before I´m even finished." – A whisper before departing.

"I hope you like my gift." - The powerful dark one said, sweetly, as if talking to a lover. And opened the golden box he had brought with himself.

Draco gazed at the content.

Inside the chest there were two dozen magnificent golden needles long as his hand, gleaming slightly under the light of the torches. Thin as pins, and filled with exquisite carvings. They were true works of art.

"They're beautiful, right? My father gave them to me. – The Dark Lord took one out, and began turning it in his fingers, admiring the sight and finesse of its making. - Gold, made by hand. They are enchanted so that only one of our lineage can remove them once stuck. - He said gently, showing the one in his hand.- Originally they were for dissections. The enchantment prevented anyone from spoiling the experiment, or from stealing them. But you see ... my father never thought what more useful applications could have a spell like that." - Smiled, and the golden light cached and sparked in the tool.

_"Hugged a little harder."_ Draco took energies from the thought.

"I also gave them my personal touch." - The sharp tip touched the chest of his immobilized victim. Not quite breaking skin, just a veiled threat.

Draco gasped, but did not look away. _"Nothing I say will stop him."_

"You see ... I added another spell, so that in case of being stuck in a living creature ... they react a little differently.-bright cruel smile in black lips- Cause tremendous pain to the victim, one can paralyze a limb, but if you take more than five ... fever, nausea ... you feel as if you are dying. But don´t worry, they are prepared to prevent that from happening. No rest, no relief, until I decide to remove them." – The bony hand stuck the tip in his chest, as easily as if it were butter. A horrible shock of pain gripped Draco, who, had not been chained, would have convulsed.

He gave a low painful moan.

"What do you think?" -The Lord whispered in his ear, licking his lobe sensually. The young nobleman refused to answer, proudly turning his face to the other side.- "As you wish."

Slowly, very slowly, the needle sank until only a golden drop could be seen on the skin, as if it were an ornament. With the entering of the metal spike blood began to flow, painting a little crimson thread that contrasted beautifully with the shattered and pale skin.

The pain was horrible ... Draco convulsed with every millimetre that was introduced in his body, writhing against the chains, unable to escape it. Tears flooded his eyes and began to slide down his cheeks ... before frosting on the pale skin.

Terrible screams escaped his throat.

"Enjoy it Draco. Enjoy."

* * *

It had been three days.

Three days registering the tower, watching the guards, and searching the books that MacGonnagal had send with Hedwig. All to no avail. And yet it had been disappearing much more food than usual of the kitchen, and no one had seen anything.

"When does he get it?" - Ron hissed indignantly, walking from one side to another of the guard rest room, like a caged tiger.

At the moment the three Aurors were alone, in one of the rare times when they got rid of both unsuspecting guards. At the moment, they were out taking their tasks inside the prison, while a couple of elves watched the kitchen.

Hermione sat before the fire, surrounded by heavy volumes. Just now going through another, ignoring Ron's bad mood and the strange attitude of Harry, who did nothing but mumble some statement from time to time while watching the flames in the chimney.

"Are any of you two listening?" – Ron asked, and Harry looked up started.

"Yes, yes ... I have heard you, Ron." - The dark haired auror murmured.

"And what I just said?" - Said folding his arms, upset because he was being ignored.

"..." - Harry looked away trying to hide his guilt. Ron threw his hands to heaven.

"What I was saying? You aren´t interested in either case!"

"Don´t be a kid Ron. We have encountered bad situations other times." -Said Hermione, finally lifting her face from the book. The redhead sighed and flopped down beside her.

"I know ... it's just that we don´t have a clue. Nothing. Since we came here, all had been conjectures. It's like trying to catch smoke. I tell you, we should interrogate the guards."

"We have talked about it, Ron. We can´t without permission from the ministry, and to ask for something like that, we need proof to support our suspicions. Especially because they were interrogated before we got here." –

The redhead ruffled his hair frustrated.

"Then I don´t know what to do."

Harry got up and began pacing thoughtfully. Until, finally, he stopped, and looked at his friends with a gaze of unwavering determination.

"That´s it. We will have to review what we already have. You, Hermione, return to the basement to see if you can get some more detail from Zabini. - Mione nodded and began to put the books back in his magical pocket. - Ron, you to the kitchen. It occurs to me, that, although we have not succeeded in discovering anything, the elves working there must have seen something."

"I did ask them, they don´t know who had taken the food." - His friend said wearily.

"You have said so, who. What if we were wrong, and was not a who, but a what, the one to do it?"

"A that ... ... Could it be...- immediately Ron began rising with renewed energy. Quickly took his coat. -See you at dinner. Good luck." –And leaved hastily, shouting goodbyes over his shoulder, as he walked through the door.

When the wood had closed behind him, Hermione approached his dark haired friend.

"Harry. And you?" – She asked seriously.

"I?" – He asked back, as if he didn´t understood the question thrown by his friend.

"You know what I mean. You're not going to return to the tower, right?"

"... It´s only logical that it's me, the one to do it. I've been there before. Besides, you were the one who spoke with first Zabini, it will be more difficult for some detail escape your brain." - Hermione grabbed his arm before he tried to get the invisibility coats bag.

"At the tower may also have gone Ron."

"But I had been there before, as I just said." - He repeated without looking away from the pack. His monotone voice, the uneasy averted eyes…

"Precisely. Harry, we've talked about this already. You promised that you wouldn´t look for him until the case is solved." – The brave woman, reminded his best friend, so very seriously.

"I know. I'm not going to see him." - The green as crystal of his eyes, rotated back to Hermione. So hard and solemn…

"All right. – She released his arm. – Just be careful. ¿Okay?"

"Aren´t I every time?" – Harry asked with a wry smile. He picked up his coat, and left an uneasy Hermione alone.

Harry sighed as he walked toward the aged door. Since Hermione had made him promise to not seek the small white one again, he had been feeling uneasy. In his head he kept the feeling that something dreadful had happened drilling inside every few hours. He felt again, and again, the scourge of guilt, and now felt it once more when his hand touched the doorknob. Furious with himself, the auror savagely crushed the sentiment. "First I have to finish the mission." Hermione's words about his irresponsibility, and how he would ultimately endanger the magical world's people, returned to his muddy mind. With renewed determination, the former griffindor opened the door, and began moving down the hall.

* * *

Lady Margaret looked sadly at the chocolate frog she had gotten from the backpack of one of the Aurors. The wrapping paper shone golden in the light of the candles that adorned the hall, bright as a Christmas present. Cheerful.

"I hope he can eat this..." – She muttered to herself, pressing the box against her chest. The lady dementor knew it was risky but ... his little had not eaten in three days. Since she found him on the floor of his room, sounded by a drying pool of blood. Delirious, shivering non-stop, consumed by fever ... His tunic, broken in no more than a tattered and bloody fabric, barely clinging to his frame. And those golden ornaments ... the blood seemed to flow from them. She had tried to take them out, but could not, and just touching them made the little one cry heartbreakingly.

She dragged him to bed as best she could, and ran desperately for help, but ... The Dementor Lord had not wanted to offer it. Said Draco deserved this punishment. Margaret did not know what he could have done, to deserve something so hard. She had prayed, begged help for him. .. But...

After that, she had no dared ask to the rest of the dementors. If the Dark Lord said that he deserved it, no one would contradict him. But she couldn´t leave Draco in that state.

So, took a basin of warm water and returned with Draco.

During the following days she had cleaned his wounds. Applying cold compresses on his forehead, though the fever had not decreased. Trying to avoid more injures, when he suffered spasms due to the pain...

Noting worked as his condition worsened day by day.

She had been trying to feed him, but could not get in his body more than a little water. He seemed unable to hold anything else. Once, Margaret even tried to give him a little memory. The reaction was so violent, that she thought the seizures would kill him.

She had not tried again.

This piece of chocolate, robbed from the visitors, was the only food that she knew for sure, would have some effect in him. She didn´t know whether it would be beneficial or harmful ... but if she didn´t do something soon, Draco would die anyway.

Margaret turned away from the wall of the hallway, where she had been thinking, and walked toward his room.

When she came inside, the lady had to stifle a sob.

In the centre of the huge bed, Draco seemed little more than a rag doll. His tunic had recovered a little, and now looked more like a dirty rag than anything else… but his body shook like a leaf, fevered and so ill... the blond groaned weakly, unable to issue any other sound through a throat that was already three days raw, shattered after issuing scream after scream, over and over again, until it was no longer capable of more.

When the Dementor Lord had been done with him, Draco had lost count of all the times he had fainted, only to be awakened again by the terrible pain of a new needle piercing his skin.

Finally, after losing consciousness last time, he had been dragged back to his room by William, who kicked him brutally.

The pain almost plunged him again into unconsciousness, and Draco regretted that it hadn´t been the case.

He felt vaguely, when William turned to leave the room, closing the door behind himself, and moaned weakly, it hurt so much ... he couldn´t even move. And began to mourn in silence, without strength for anything else.

_"He smelled of soap and sweat and something powerfully masculine, somehow comforting."_

_"Warmth and security."_

_"He felt protected, safe from all the horror he had to suffer."_

_"I'll come every day, I promise."_ "Harry ... Where are you?"

It hurt so very much...

That was three days ago.

Margaret sat in the corner of the bed, took the cloth, now dry on Draco's forehead, and dipped the rag into the bucket that was on the nightstand, carefully re-applying it. She noted the laboured breathing of her child. The way the muscles contracted painfully under the skin. The pallor of his lips almost blue...

The lady took the chocolate frog from her pocket, and after looking it a moment, opened the box. The small chocolate creation jumped and tried to leave, but Lady Margaret managed to barely catch it.

Margaret sighed, relieved that she had not let the sweet escape. Looked at the dying blonde, looked at the frog. If it wounded him more… but what could she do? There wasn´t anything else, she hadn't already tried…

Finally, pulled one leg from the chocolate frog. Gently threw back Draco's head. Crumbled the piece of chocolate in her fingers, and put it in his mouth with a little bit of water to help the swallow. Massaged his throat... The young man swallowed convulsively. Margaret looked at him expectantly. After a long minute, the silver eyelashes quivered, and finally, Draco opened his eyes, barely.

Harry had just entered the tower, when an exclamation from one of the rooms made him stop. Something hit his shoe.

Lowering his eyes, he saw a chocolate frog escape jumping at three feet.

**It will continue.**

 


	8. Start

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things start

**Harry Potter is property of JK Rowling. I write this out of pure personal pleasure, and the desire to bring happiness to other fans. And my pockets don´t want anything in return. Thanks.**

**Warning:** This story contains yaoi, it means love between men. As much as drama and suffering, supernatural creatures and sex related scenes.

 **Summary:** When seven years after the war, Draco Malfoy escapes from his cell in Azkaban, the ministry has no choice but to send his best Auror, Harry Potter, to capture him again. Between the walls of the world's toughest prison, Harry will discover not only the origin of the most terrifying creatures, but a love against time.

**Dementor Kiss**

**Chapter 8- Start**

_Harry had just entered the tower, when an exclamation from one of the rooms made him stop. Something hit his shoe._

_Lowering his eyes, he saw a chocolate frog escape jumping at three feet._

The eyelids closed again, covering gray irises.

* * *

Disappointed, Margaret let the air she had been holding, leave in a sigh.

"Draco?" - But her child didn´t move again. _"I thought it had worked, but ..."_ Finally, her body flopped into the chair beside the bed, shoulders slumped. Careful not to harm him more, took one pale and lifeless hand in hers. Gently beginning to caress it, trying to console herself, thinking that at least he was still alive. But, how much more time, he would resist?

If Draco didn´t begin to recover soon ... the lady shook her head. She refused to think about it. Dementors couldn´t die. But Draco... "He's not a dementor, not entirely. And his soul is already in critical condition. Not quite free, not tied at all. If he dies now..." She didn´t know what could happen if he died. "What can I do?" Resting her head on the edge of the bed, she began to pry.

"Chocolate in a tower filled with Dementors?" Harry thought. It could only mean one thing. Someone who was not one of those creatures, was here.

"They have to be the guards… or Malfoy."

And looked in the direction the frog came from. One of the doors in the hall seemed ajar.

Silent as a shadow, Harry began to move towards it. Wand in hand, ready to attack or defend as needed. All his senses alert to any sign of danger. Showing all the grace, of a large feline predator.

Then, he felt it. In what was the very aura of the tower, another icy presence cold and eerie, was trying to infuse fear in his heart. He shook off the feeling.

"A dementor"

Putting the hand on the door frame, and opening it a little, the auror slid inside, hidden under the invisibility coat. Just pausing upon entering, scanning the room with his eyes, carefully studying the environment and its occupants.

The wan light of a cloudy day lit the chamber, making everything look grey and depressing.

In the stone seat under the window, blood stained bandages and towels had accumulated in a dirty white mess full of dull red. On the table that stood in the centre of the room, untouched dishes piled haphazardly, some already in a state of putrefaction. The chimney with its fire nearly of, covered in ashes, had leaved the worn carpet in front blackened and dirty.

He knew this room.

His blood chilled inside.

Since the war began, since he lost his godfather, Sirius. He had fought to prevent something like that to ever, ever, happen again. Had trained relentlessly, his magic, his mind, his body. To avoid having to feel one more time, the terrible void that produced the knowledge, that he could have done more. That he could have saved someone else. That he not doing the right thing, had caused the suffering of someone cherished. That he hadn´t been fast enough, hadn´t been attentive enough.

And he had made it.

He was the best Auror of the division. His reason for fighting; "To help people." And yes, he wanted to help all the people who lived outside Azcaban, but never, ever wanted to sacrifice an innocent for it. And certainly not him...

"This is the small white's room." Blame cruelly nipped his consciousness.

He took a deep breath, preparing for the worst. And slowly, he turned to the bed.

A dementor ... A common dementor was sitting in a chair beside the bed, curled up on i. "That dementor ..." reminded him of the dementor who had run to help the white, when he suffered the panic attack. He seemed to be keeping someone confined to bed, but from its position Harry couldn´t see who.

 _"Could ... could you come, to see me, at least once, please?"_ He remembered.

"It cannot be him." All himself revealed at the idea that the small dementor...

Began to approach the bed.

_"If ... if you could ... I think I could stand it."_

"Please don´t let it be him..." Harry prayed inwardly.

With each step he took, the clearer the memory of the little dementor became.

The delicate tremors that shook his body, as a sob after another raked him.

The cracked whisper of his voice. As if the words were an effort to his frail body.

The overwhelming smoothness of his robe. Softer than any silk, delicate as spider web. Warm and cold at once.

The fragility of his figure in his arms. His extreme thinness. The feel of the ribs under his hands.

 _"I swear, I will come every day."_ He had promised.

The sad light, just reached inside the curtains ... White ... The breath died on the aurors lips.

The little creature looked like a limp rag doll that had been abandoned in the giant bed. His beautiful white robe, torn, shredded, turned into a dirty rag, stained with blood and ashes. The pale skin barely seen, was covered with wounds again and again, bleeding, just closed, scabs, scars ... the little white must have been tortured for months ... The painful way in which he struggled for breath, as if he weren´t capable of taking oxygen to his lungs. The red spots that soaked the sheets around... trembling faintly feverish.

_"You know it, so now promise me not to go after him again."_

_"Okay ... I promise."_

The guilt hit him brutally. He stepped back. Felt vomit rising, but managed to contain it.

The little white had been so scared ... He knew something was happening ... And left him alone. He had begged him to stay, how could he let someone do that to him? Harry gritted his teeth, and put his hand on his chest where his heart was a rock that tried to pump ice. "I will not let him be hurt again." He knew it was impossible to pay for what he had done, but was determined to prevent further damage.

The white shuddered and began coughing violently. Margaret was quick to hold him when blood and bile were painfully emptied into a basin beside the bed. Harry's body shook with the effort of resisting the urge to go and hold his frail body, caress and soothe him until the attack passed.

The desire to protect that pale, wounded, exhausted, helpless, creature, rooted with the intensity of a flame inside his heart. A fire that he knew all too well. The same savage determination that had led him to enter the chamber of secrets and confront a basilisk with only twelve years, to save a girl he hardly knew, was what feed it.

He watched a moment, as the other dementor cleaned his charge with a dirty cloth.

Staring at them, he fervently wished to be the one who was cleaning those pale lips, barely glimpsed beneath the fabric of the hood. His hands trembled with the effort to keep them still; he wanted to wrap him in his arms so badly... But one certainty made his way into the aurors mind. The white was not getting the treatment he needed. If it followed like this, infections could kill him.

 _"Dementors can´t die."_ Had said his friend, but now he wasn´t willing to risk believing her words.

He could look after him, had received medical training in the Aurors division. At least, make sure he was better attended than here ... and more safe. "God ... if I had come as I promised, I could have prevented this." The thought only served to increase the guilt that consumed him.

The other, wrapped carefully the small white in the bed sheets, as he trembled, quivering again and again.

He seemed to be getting worse.

"Whoever did that, has to be another dementor. What other creature would be able to do something like this to one of them?" He looked up. The vision of the small in this state... The coldness in his green eyes would have frightened anyone who saw the auror at the time. "When I take the one who did this, he would want to be able to die." His eyes froze completely with the Avada Kedavras green reflection. The dishes on the table, the glass in the windows ... trembled, cracked and exploded almost immediately, scattering glass and crockery on the floor in a violent wave that shook the furniture. Margaret sat up with a cry on her lips.

Harry kept his power with steel reins, controlling it. Right now there was something much more important than revenge. "I cannot let the small remain in the tower, he is in danger here." It seemed that the other dementor wouldn´t harm the small one, but he could also inform the Dementor Lord if he saw him there, and Harry had the intuition that the Lord was guilty for the state the small white was in. He pointed his wand at the dementor that was looking in all directions in fear.

"Specto Patronum!"

* * *

The place was as silent as the last time she went down to the basement. The smell of dead algae, mildew on the walls, humidity, the waterlogged soil almost to the knees... all helped to turn the environment into something disturbing and unpleasant. Hermione wrapped her coat better around herself. Down here the temperature was colder than in higher plants. But the worst was the silence. Under the sea level were the vampires, sleeping during the day now. Looking so pale and motionless on their cots ... it was almost like walking through the morgue. Hermione shook her head to take off that stupid idea, before she started to get nervous.

"The sooner I talk to Zabini, the sooner I can get out of here." And started walking with more vigour, splashing loudly... until something alerted her.

"What's that?" She listened while walking. There was another sound behind her. Someone seemed to be following. Further progress, pretending she had not noticed, revealed it to don´t be a guard. But there wasn´t n anyone else with reasons to follow her in Azkaban. And she doubted Malfoy would be so stupid as to search for her.

"We'll see what you intend." Sue thought.

The auror walked as if she hadn´t noticed anything. The splash was becoming stronger. She could hear it coming, approaching her. -"Wait a minute ... is not being secretive. It´s coming ... to get me!" - Suddenly ...

"Auuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuhhh !" - She turned. Just in time to see Fenrrir Greyback at the other end of the hall. The monster also saw her... Hermione ran. The beast crouched showing yellow bestial teeth.

The hunt had begun.

She knew that spells wouldn´t be effective. She had seen Greyback in action during the war. It took four Aurors only to immobilize him.

"I have to get to the next level. If I cross the barrier between them, he isn´t going to be able to follow me." She knew this was her only chance. A wolfs laughter, and some screeching sounded behind her. Hermione sprinted. "Run!"

Her legs ached, her lungs were burning. Behind her she could hear Fenrrir coming closer and closer. Her heart beat like crazy. "Just a little more" Just had to turn the corner to reach the stairs… They were in a deep zone of the fourth basement, near the cell of Zabini. Here was another way out, she knew from the Azkaban map that Henry had shown them. She struggled even more ... It was almost over.

"No way out!" The place where the door should be was occupied by a wall of rock.

A blow sent her brutally against the wall. The shock of cold water at hitting the flooded floor, paralyzed her for a moment. Hermione emerged coughing and spitting. A low wild growl...

"It´s behind me!" Struggled to sit up, dodging the razor-sharp claws by a hair. They struck the stone with a horrible grinding noise, scratching up rock and mildew. She managed to stand up stumbling.

"Stupefy!" - The blow threw Fenrrir back bariums meters. The Auror began to run again. "I have to return to the main entrance." But that meant retracing her steps, and passing over the werewolf. "Think Hermione, think."

"Specto Patronum! Search for Ron!" -Shouted to the misty otter as she ran. Fenrrir was already behind her. Mione turned back ready to fire like she had before. But he had predicted it, crouching. Her spell ran over the Death Eater and hit the opposite wall without touching him... The coup against his chest, threw her against the bars of a cell taking the air from her lungs... Something began to slide down her temple ... dizzy, Mione put a hand to her face.

"Blood ..." - He left the gate just in time. The vampires, hungry, imprisoned, fed on potions, without having tasted a drop of blood in years ... began to awaken to the smell of blood.

Claws slid out from each cell, trying to catch her, inhuman hissing and snarling, savage elongated fangs, faces full of hunger sticking to the bars, wanting her blood, struggling to get out.

Ferrir laughed merrily, the sound sharp and incongruous coming from his throat.

"What will you do now, Auror? If I don´t kill you, they will do it."

Hermione stepped back watching him, wand in hand, determined not to be intimidated. Her hair was wet and it stuck to her forehead and neck, slipping from her shoulders to mid-back. The wrinkled and soggy clothes showed some tears. Blood trickled down her forehead to the neck, staining the hem of his coat. Her gaze steady. She knew she was in a very difficult situation, but was unwilling to surrender. "If Ron does not come soon ..." She had to buy time.

"You know that if you kill me, you will be executed. Your soul eaten by a dementor. Is not a pleasant experience."

Greyback's laugh was his answer.

"I will worry about it when you die, What do you think?" -He lunged, dodging her defensive spell. Hermione tried to pull away, but wasn´t fast enough. The monster's hands closed around her throat, leaving her breathless.

"I would have liked to play some more with you. But unfortunately, I have jobs to do." Hermione supported the tip of her wand on his chest.

"Stupe... fy." - This time Greyback withstood the pull without moving. Although it was obviously painful.

"That you will regret." - Squeezed harder, enjoying the pleasure of the moment, the slow agony of his victim. Hermione struggled to get loose, but she was running out of strength fast. The vampires roared, shouted, hissed ... shouting?

"Open the door Granger!" - _... "Zabini"_ The dark vampire grabbed the bars as hard as the rest, but his gaze was not lost in bloodlust.

"Open it!" - The Auror was running out of breath, small black spots began to appear in her vision. The red intensity of Blaise's eyes...

"Hermione!" - Blaise... She raised the wand with a trembling hand.

"Alf .. gray .. dor ..."- murmured weakly, felling like she was, finally, falling into unconsciousness.

The rusty creaking of a door opening.

* * *

What was that? She looked frightened in all directions. The glass crunched underfoot.

"Specto Patronum!"

Suddenly a magnificent deer lunged at her.

Laughter.

The joyous laughter of a woman, and the depth one of a man.

A baby...

Remembered happiness cruelly assaulted her, reminding her of ... "Mama I'm in love." The smile of happiness of Eba ... "Aaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh!" Raven hair in flames... being consumed by fire.

She couldn´t stand it. With a hiss of despair, Margaret ran to the door.

The dementor fled like a soul running from the devil.

Any moment now, the rest of the towers Dementors would come to punish those who had dared to enter their ground, uninvited. He had to pull the little out of here. Now!

Harry threw down his coat of invisibility, as he ran quickly to the bed. Dropped to one knee on the edge of the mattress, almost as if making an offering to the pale and tortured creature, and carefully wrapped the young with his auror coat. Watching helplessly as blood stained the material.

"He's so tired, so weak ... he didn´t even complain when I moved him." The fierce desire to protect him, coiled in his stomach like a snake. Guilt fed the flame in his chest, with a wild and steady beat.

He picked him up. Just weighed the same as a child, and looked as innocent.

Attracted him protectively to his chest, and wrapped both of them in the invisibility coat.

"No one will hurt you again." – harry whispered in the dark.

* * *

The store was completely filled with dust and cobwebs, but a quick scorguffay dealt with it. Carefully, Harry deposited his precious cargo in a pile of freshly cleaned and stacked pallets, and quickly took an armful of old blankets to cover him.

They were on one of the abandoned storage rooms on the first floor. The place was occupied by the old furniture of the rooms of the guards, unused pallets, dusty blankets and pots. The warm atmosphere, very rare in Azkaban, was precisely why he had chosen this old room. It´s back wall was in contact with the rear wall of the kitchen, so that heat from one, filtered to the other.

"He doesn't stop shaking." He watched how around some of the wounds, had begun to form dark circles, signs of infection. And along with the fever and chills... This meant that the disease was already advanced. "I have to clean the wounds and keep him warm, make him sweat to flush out the infection." The tunic fabric had adhered to the wounds with dried blood.

"Kreacher" – Harry called.

The cantankerous old elf, appeared with a pop in front of his master.

Because the Auror had the magic key for the barriers of the prison, the old elf also had permission to enter. Harry hadn´t been sure it would work with all the protective magic of Azkaban in the middle, but inwardly thanked his assumption for being correct.

"Master." - He bowed ceremoniously. Since Harry took him under his hand, and showed him how much power he had... the little devil had learned to respect his new master. And finally, after a time, also to appreciate him. Kreacher was proud of the power and strength of his master, but regretted he didn´t employ it for more useful things.

"What can Kreacher do to help his master?" - Smiled from ear to ear, clearly happy to have been called, an evil and macabre smile, but that was how he was.

"I need you to bring the first aid kit, a bowl of warm water and bandages. Make sure that no one sees you while you're at it." - Said quickly and authoritatively, knowing that Kreacher would handle everything efficiently.

"Yes master." - And disappeared with another Pop.

Kreacher returned faster than Harry expected, making everything float behind himself; the kit, bandages and the basin filled with warm water. Deposited the load by the makeshift bed with a snap of fingers and awaited.

"Here it is, Master Harry." – The auror nodded.

"Thanks Kreacher. Did you see anyone when you were at it?" - Asked as he returned the medicine kit, to its original size. The kit was an auror one. Looked like a white box no bigger than a hand, until it was enlarged. Actually, it was almost the size of a suitcase, containing rows of potions of various uses; for regenerating blood, bones and organs. Pain relievers of various intensities. Fever, infections, and some of the most common disease treatments. Ointments for bumps, scrapes and scars. It also had bandages, but judging by the many wounds the white had, he had thought they wouldn´t be enough. Hence, asking Kreacher for more.

"No, master, Kreacher has not been seen. As you ordered."

"Well done, you can go." - He had no time to stop and explain why he needed all that material, or why he had a wounded dementor there. Anyway, he knew that Kreacher didn´t need explanations.

The old elf made another bow.

"If you need anything, Kreacher will be happy to help master." - Harry dismissed him with a wave of his hand, and the elf disappeared with a slight pop.

He turned to the small dementor.

* * *

She broke the water surface, and hit the bottom. Desperate for some air, opened her mouth. The putrid stagnant water entered her lungs suffocating her. Mione knew she was only inches away from the surface, but couldn´t move. Her conscience began to fade. Suddenly, a sharp pain in her skull suddenly roused her. Someone pulled her by her hair, dragging her to the surface in one brutal movement. Hermione began to cough violently expelling the water she had swallowed, and taking the welcomed oxygen. The pulls culprit pushed her aside when something hit the wall, where she was only half a second ago, blowing shards of rock and moss.

A wild roar.

"Stay out of this vampire! She´s my prey!" - The auror pulled the hair of her face, panting, just in time to see an enraged Fenrrir, just three feet away, showing sharp yellow teeth while saliva dripped down his chin, eyes gleaming gold. His height and the powerful muscles... the death eater looked like a beast about to kill. And all that stood between the monster and she, was the crouching body, slender and fibrous, of Blaise Zabini. Curled very dark black hair, showing the fangs in a wild and threatening manner, and his eyes shining blood red...

"I'm not going to step aside, Greyback. So get yourself another dam, this is mine." - Hissed.

The werewolf attacked him. If Blaise moved away the hit would take Hermione. But to the surprise of Mione, Blaise didn´t avoid the attack, instead came to meet it. Both opponents hit a barred cell receiving scratches from its occupant. Blaise further pushed against the bars and the sharp claws of another vampire, sinking his fangs in Greyback's throat, ripping and tearing at the same time, with the firm intention of cutting his throat out. Fenrrir roared and grabbed the dark vampire, wrapping his chest with his arms, using all his strength to try to break the thorax box, and plunge the ribs in his heart. All the while being torn apart again and again, by the sharp claws of the prisoner.

Hermione watched in shock as blood ran down the neck of the werewolf bathing Blaise. Heard the painful cracking of the ribs of the vampire. The roars of one and other, the maddening sound of all vampires now awake and thirsty. The claws on the stone and metal, hissing, screaming, howling...

Suddenly the two opponents stood still. The dead like bodies slid languidly to the ground, partially sinking in the water. Hermione got up, she had lost his wand during the combat, but still took a couple of steps toward them. Zabini didn´t move. And then, suddenly, the vampire opened his eyes. They were dull, without the murder gloss that she had just seen, his skin a pale grey, he looked exhausted.

"Are you okay?" - He asked. Hermione snorted, coming to herself.

"I'm fine. You should care for yourself. You could have died." -Approached the vampire, and began to help him get free from the lifeless body of Greyback. With a groan of pain, Blaise finally got out of the imprisoning embrace.

"Now that's funny. - He gasped. - I'm already dead." - Coughed raggedly.

The comment infuriated her.

"That's not what I meant and you know it."

The vampire laughed softly.

"A, the brave Auror worrying about me, the vile prisoner." - The wounds on his back and sides were already beginning to close. He cracked his shoulders to finish repositioning the bones.

Mione became serious.

"Why did you save me? You risked your life." - The eyes of both locked together. Softly, very gently, Blaise pushed a lock of the aurors curly soaked reddish hair, with the tip of a finger, barely touching the skin of her forehead.

"Should I answer that?" - His voice serious and slightly hoarse, made Mione's breathing quicken slightly.

"If you're looking for prison release, I can´t give it." – She said trying to gather as much coolness as possible. What other reason could he had to help? The vampire smiled slightly, as if mocking himself.

"I know you wouldn´t; you're too attached to the rules for that."

"What then?" – She almost feared the answer. Zabini nodded thoughtfully.

"Look, what do you think of answering me a question, in reward for my help." - Finally he said, abruptly changing the subject. Hermione studied him a moment, but finally let it go.

"About what?"

"I wonder… how a dementor comes to be? - She frowned at that. -What were you thinking I was going to ask?" – The Italian vampire said, with a wolfish grin. Hermione blushed to her hair.

"Nothing. Nothing ...like… "it""- Vehemently denied.

"I ... "- and came perilously close to the auror, who pulled back trying to hide her discomfort.

"Why dementors?" – She tried to change the subject, and Blaise seemed to shrink on himself, stepping from her, suddenly took by memories.

"Because, when you take seven years to living with these monsters, you end just wondering who released their damn presence." - Hermione noted wasn´t a very large request after what he had done for her. Although quite a strange one.

"I will look at it, it's the least I can do." - The dark smile that he gave her caused the acceleration of her pulse. He sat up and went back into his cell, closing the gate behind himself. Hermione also rose.

"I thought it would take more persuasion to convince you to go back there." - Blaise turned to face her.

"Not that I like it here, but your buddy Wesley is approaching."

"Ron?" - She had forgotten about the patronus she sent after him.

"I... "- Mione did not know what was in his eyes at that time. –" I'd appreciate that you don´t tell him that I helped."

"I ..."

"Hermione! What happened? You okay?"

* * *

Gently, being careful not to damage him more, Harry began to separate the fabric of the wounds to which they had stuck with the dry blood. A clean cloth, soaked in the bowl, soaked the area to make it easier.

Touching the pale and battered skin... it took his breath away. A shudder ran through him, almost as if electrocuted. A sigh of pleasure escaped the aurors lips. It was so soft ... like velvet, like the most perfect silk, like wind in a dive when flying in his broom. Frosty, electrifying. Sensual, much more sensual than the rustle of his tunic.

"So soft ..." - That word couldn´t ever describe it, but Harry didn´t seem able to find a better one. He wished to extend the palm and caress every inch of skin, explore all his length, from feet to face. But when he saw the wounds that marked him... immediately came to himself. Embarrassed and feeling guilty about the desire, he had felt for the poor and ailing creature, he pushed all notions about it to the depths of his mind.

"I'm supposed to care for him, no take advantage of his state!" Determined to protect the young white, even against himself, he retook the work of healing. Every touch, every skin contact, urged him to let go, to surrender to the touch of almost porcelain. But just thinking about the pain it would cause ... he ground his teeth. Never, never, was he going to hurt him again. **Never!** Every time he retired a piece of cloth, a wound opened again and bleed, deep red stains in contrast with a skin as white as snow.

Draco shuddered. Something ... no, someone was touching him. It was like a balm for his shattered body. It seemed a lifetime ago, since the last time he had been aware at a minimally discernible level, but the warm touch of those hands had returned his mind to the surface, from the nightmarish world in which he had been submerged. The pain was still terrible, and if his stomach weren´t empty, even of bile, he probably would have vomited.

All his muscles seemed to be burning with pain, as if he had exercised far beyond their resilience, and their lungs were flooded with something that was definitely not air, making breathing a maddeningly laborious and agonizing drill. But the worst were the needles, he could feel every inch of each under his skin, in his flesh, sending excruciating pain downloads at regular intervals. Each time the pain of a wave faded enough to allow for a more quiet breathe, the next hit him with renewed intensity. Mostly Draco appreciated the fever that dulled his senses, because it deadened a little the push. But there was something more, calming his suffering far more effectively.

The pleasant sensation, of another hot and horny skin on his.

Definitely not a dementor. That was certain. He recognized the difference with the icy touch of the person, who had been caring for him before. He thought it was Lady Margaret, but couldn´t be quite sure, in those moments, agony had erased any logical perceptiveness of his mind. But these hands ... their mere touch was a relief. As if the heat spreading from them, calmed his very core. As if through the gentle touch, he could feel the concern of that person for him, his desire to protect him, like a flame burning inside. At his heart, he had the tingling feeling that he knew who owned the touch, but his dull mind seemed unable to think, and actually, just wanted to enjoy it ... so he allowed his mind to be lulled by the pleasant sensation.

He opened eyes of a dull red, and sighed. Granger and Wesley had just left. Luckily, the red haired idiot had not realized he was awake.

He had blindly believed the story of his friend, who said she had been the one who had managed to throw Greyback against the bars, using a stupeffy. And the werewolf was slained by the vampire who was inside. A terrible accident, that thanks to Merlin, had saved her life. How could Wesley be so obtuse? As if such a wound in the neck, could have been caused by someone through a fence. He snorted in exasperation. The only good thing, was that the incident didn´t transcend beyond the female auror and him. He rolled onto his back with his eyes on the ceiling. Granger had improved over the years, that was undeniable, and surely, surely, he had thought, for a moment, about asking for a bite as payment for his help. He was sure she would have been tasty, like homemade muffins, pudding and cinnamon.

But that was just a twinge instigated by hunger, nothing more. He had saved her, only for one reason.

To save his best friend. Draco. She would find out for him the way to stop the process, and then... well, he may find a way to manipulate her in helping him a little more.

But he still could not understand why had Fenrrir been loose. Certainly, not in the area of the vampires. He had his suspicions, of course. But really he would have gone so far?

Harry saw a picture ... that he knew, later, would return to his mind. The Dementor's naked, beautifully white, body.

He had removed the tattered robe, all of it except the hood. He had not wanted to touch it, remembering the only time he had, and the panic it caused.

And what was under the cloth was simply beautiful. He had never thought, that word would ever been say, about something like one of those nightmarish creatures. But this was. The extreme thinness, multiple injuries, the gray tone of the skin ... didn´t manage to cover the perfect proportions, the graceful elegance of the long limbs. The incredibly narrow waist, sensual curves and the creaminess of the pale skin.

Carefully, deliberately ignoring all other matters, he began to clean the wounds.

"What's that?" - There was a golden drop on the marblish skin, like a fine ornament. It seemed a trickle of blood was flowing from it. "A piercing?" He didn´t know the Dementors may be interested in these things. But it seemed that torture should have reopened the wound of the ornament. "I better take it out." Very gently, tugged at it.

A needle, a needle long as his hand, bathed in blood, glistening under the candlelight. A small masterpiece of torture.

**It will continue.**


	9. Cobweb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saved, but...

**Harry Potter is property of JK Rowling. I write this out of pure personal pleasure, and the desire to bring happiness to other fans. And my pockets don´t want anything in return. Thanks.**

**Warning:** This story contains yaoi, it means love between men. As much as drama and suffering, supernatural creatures and sex related scenes.

 **Summary:** When seven years after the war, Draco Malfoy escapes from his cell in Azkaban, the ministry has no choice but to send his best Auror, Harry Potter, to capture him again. Between the walls of the world's toughest prison, Harry will discover not only the origin of the most terrifying creatures, but a love against time.

 **Note:** Ok, here comes a little of slash. ^^

 

**Dementor Kiss**

**Chapter 9-Cobweb**

_-"What's that?" - There was a golden drop on the marblish skin, like a fine ornament. It seemed a trickle of blood was flowing from it. "A piercing?" He didn´t know Dementors may be interested in these things. But it seemed that torture should have reopened the wound of the ornament. "I better take it out." Very gently, tugged at it._

_A needle, a needle long as his hand, bathed in blood, glistening under the candlelight._

_A small masterpiece of torture._

* * *

He was dozing lightly, aware of nothing but the pleasant warmth of the blankets. Even if he couldn´t remember why it felt, like he shouldn´t be feeling this well. That he should wake up. Like a nagging whisper in his head.

For a while he tried to ignore it. But the feeling became more urgent, until he finally had no choice but to pay attention.

With a sigh of resignation, Draco opened his eyes. And blinked a few times to clear his view.

"Old clunkers?" The room he was in, seemed full of old furniture haphazardly stacked.

"It looks like I´m in a storage room, but it´s clean at least."

He frowned. The sense of urgency piercing his conscious mind. His awareness seemed so cloudy... Why it felt like he was forgetting something? The old slytherin closed his eyes exhausted.

"Something ..."

And he remembered.

Azkaban..., the Dementor Lord, Potter...

Abruptly he was up. Looking in all directions, tense and alert, waiting to see the monster appear one way or the other, it hardly mattered.

After several minutes with no sign of his presence, the nervousness wrecking his body began to calm down.

"He's not here." - Sighed with relief. And that's when he noticed another thing that had gone unnoticed in the confusion of the moment.

"I feel no pain..."

After the agony in which he had been submerged the last days, of the torture, needles, fever, pain, nausea ... it was like nothing of it had happened. He looked at himself.

His tunic was, thanks to Merlin, still white. Somewhat ragged, but at least it showed no tears or stains.

He rolled up his sleeve.

Still just as skinny and sickly pale, his skin was still crossed by scars, but there were no open festering wounds. Some of the marks were pink, the ones which were more recent, showing their fresh healing. But there was no pain, just a slight discomfort when he tried to flex his arm.

"The needles are not ... The Dementor Lord?"

_"Only someone of my race could remove them."_

Draco recalled his macabre laughter, almost sensual in the way he had enjoyed his cries. No, that sadistic monster would not have released him. **That** , he knew for sure.

"But then, who?" It must have been someone of his lineage.

Do any of the other dementors, perhaps, be part of his family? But he knew none of them would have helped against the orders of the dark lord. Then, who? And where was he?

He got out of bed.

After some time searching the room, the only thing out of place he found, was a medical kit, a basin, and some gauze.

"The kit looks too professional..."

The creaking of the door behind him…

Draco straightened.

Steps.

He panted.

He could feel a presence stood behind him.

Looked over his shoulder...

 _"Potter!"-_ The thought word nearly leaving his lips.

Harry smiled reassuringly:

"Feeling better?"

Draco finally turned to him. Not knowing what to say. He hadn´t expected him to be his savior. But who else could it be? Who in this damn place had a hero complex? Thought jokingly, although the usual harsh tone was absent from the words.

Potter was staring at him, waiting patiently for his answer. Seeing finally, that, for a moment, his mind has been lost in thought, Draco shook himself inwardly for his carelessness, and finally nodded.

"I'm fine."

The Auror smiled, wide and relieved.

"I'm glad."

His smile was warm and pleasant ... it brightened his face in a way that Draco had not contemplated before. Something fluttered in his stomach…and made him start pacing the room, pretending to observe the environment.

"Why have you helped me?" - Asked almost in a whisper, without turning to face the dark haired man. For a moment there was silence, as if Harry were debating the answer. Until finally…

"No one should suffer so." - Answered softly. He had almost responded something else, a response that still tingled his lips. _"Because I could not bear to see you so."_

"Yeah ... but… you didn´t came as promised." – Couldn´t let the bits of blame out of the statement. He knew Potter was his only chance to break the curse, and should try to earn his good will. And throwing accusations at his face didn´t seem a good way to get it. But damn it! He had felt so bad when he didn´t appear... He wanted to cause the auror at least a portion of his own pain.

"I'm sorry." -The voice so contrite... Draco felt Harry moving a few steps until he was at his back, so near he could feel his heat. It was so appealing... he wanted to be enveloped by that warmth again. Feel protected and safe. But…

"Why didn´t you come?" – He didn´t dare look, because if he did, he would fall in his arms again, and his pride wasn´t letting him forgive Potter yet.

"You didn´t know, but I'm here with some friends on a mission. One prisoner has escaped and is loose in Azkaban, and he has even freed another dangerous prisoner."

 _"Another prisoner?"-_ The question came at Draco's mind.

"Who?" - Asked in a monotone.

"Fenrrir Greyback. But don´t worry, it's fixed. He attacked a friend of mine, and there was an accident that ended with his death. Because of that, we weren´t able to interrogate him about where´s Malfoy, the prisoner we're here for."

Draco swallowed. _"That bastard has freed Fenrrir and blamed me? But why? What can he gain from that? One moment… His partner... Granger?"_ If his partner was Granger then the pig had it difficult, she was smart enough to figure out what was happening. _"That means he needs to get rid of her soon. That´s why, Fenrrir was unleashed."_

"Is she all right?"

"Hermione´s good, just suffered a bit of a scare."

The white nodded.

"I'm glad." - _"I´m glad Smarty is alive. Hopefully, she will catch that son of a bitch, and make him pay for what was done to me."_

Hands on his shoulders startled him.

"What I meant. Is that, that´s why I didn´t came as promised. For the mission. If we don´t stop him as soon as possible, he could release more prisoners and cause a riot."

 _"Yeah right, because I have nothing better to do. How about getting free from this curse?!"_ But he didn´t say a thing, just swallowed hard and nodded.

"I understand." - The warmth of those hands began to mess with his head. Then he remembered vaguely. The warm feeling he had when he was consumed by fever. Kind hands easing the pain... and realized… _"They were his hands."_

"I'm glad you understand. But if I had known what was happening, I wouldn´t have broken my promise, I never wanted to get you wounded." _–"And I won´t let it happen again."_ A silent promise. He turned the white gently in his arms, so he had him face to face. –"If you let me help, I would do anything to stop the one who did this."

 _"He means it. He really wants to help me."_ \- Draco could see it in the intensity of his gaze, the firm curve of his jaw, the tension in his body as if ready to protect him. He didn´t know how to feel.

"Who did you that?" - Asked Potter. Gently taking him by the chin, lifting his face even if he could not see under the shadows of the hood, but he wanted to feel, that at least, he was being looked at.

Draco fought the sobs that threatened to escape his throat swallowing with all his pride. _"Do not cry again in front of Potter. Do not."_ He looked up. Harry's eyes were of a green so intense that one could not but be swayed by them.

"The Dementor Lord." -just barely a whisper, but it was enough.

Harry held the curse he would have wanted to shout.

Against the Dementor Lord there was not much he could do. He was the leader of the Dementors and who kept them under control. If he did something to him, not only would he receive a reprimand from Kingsley, but probably end up being judged, or something like that.

He was almost certain that to touch the link that kept the creatures under the governor of the ministry, would be considered a crime. And he would send to hell those bureaucrats, if not for the consequences, of what would happen if those things got out of control ... He knew, quite well, what they were capable of. He couldn´t risk letting them loose in the world, spreading terror in their wake, devouring souls of innocent people. He might as well let Malfoy release more prisoners. Hermione had done a good job in reminding him of the safety of people out of Azkaban.

He kept his eyes firm. What else could he do?

"I can´t go against him."

Draco sighed. He should have known that he was doomed. Wanted so bad to scream, but managed to hold back and retreat a few steps. Needed to breathe, calm down ... or he didn´t know what would he do.

The voice of the Auror took a moment to penetrate his terror filled brain.

"There are other ways. I can talk to the minister of magic. Surely he can send you to other site, some other place away from Azkaban. A place where he couldn´t hurt you."

The white pulled away, taut as a bowstring.

"Where are they going to send a dementor that isn´t worth to patrol Azkaban? That's all we serve for." - Just hissed self contemptuously. Shielding his pain behind the anger.

Harry just could not listen to it.

"Then come with me. I have a big house with some hectares of forest, and strong magic barriers. You'd be safe." - Said vehemently. The note of self-loathing in the white's words had bothered him more than he could ever admit.

"You'd take me out of Azkaban?" - _"Out of the hell I live in?"_ His tone so soft and unbelieving ... Draco felt his heart racing.

Potter came to him.

"Yes." - Such confidence in that one word...

"... Thanks. – Draco felt his voice breaking. - I ... Merlin ... I'm pathetic." - Tears were rolling down his cheeks without his consent. But he couldn't seem to hold them inside.

Harry hugged him gently, gently, offering support without asking anything in return. Draco took it. His head falling on the aurors chest.

He had missed him, he had missed this. So the blond man inhaled the aurors scent, sinking his nose on the red coat. It was so reassuring… _"As sun and nutmeg, soap, sweat ... Harry"_

For a while they were still, neither wanting to break the moment, until finally, curiosity made him ask.

"Who removed the needles?"

"I." - Answered Potter calmly.

* * *

_"WHAT?"_

She closed the book titled; "Mysteries of dark creatures."

A week had passed since Fenrrir tried to kill her, a week filled by various sources of frustration. Ron hadn´t got anything out of all the elves. They refused to talk.

The guards weren´t still offering any clues.

It seemed the earth had swallowed Malfoy.

Harry did nothing but disappear as soon as she was distracted.

And she couldn´t discover anything about the blood spell used in Zabini, or where the bloody Dementors came from.

She was just in the guard room surrounded by stacks of books about blood magic and dark creatures, and none appeared to contain the answers she needed.

She took the next. A worn book belonging to the restricted section, which MacGonnagal had finally consented to send, only after she argued their need for it.

"Nox Criature."

The yellowed crackled parchment sheets, where written in Latin and the handwriting looked quite worn, very old. Hermione prepared for the arduous task of translating it.

It had taken a couple of hours, but finally looked like she had found the information she was looking for. Or at least, part of it:

"Dementors: Perhaps whatever these terrible creatures are to be present in this volume, it's debatable. For we all known that their existence is not natural and therefore, questionable whether his nature is one of obscure creature, or of created creature. But since it is undeniable that they are alive, and are dark, we will treat them as simple dark creatures, and explain to those unfamiliar with them how they are birth.

She turned the page...

"The pages are plucked!" – Hermione looked at the place where they should have been, and where it was clear that the volume had been torn. Such lack of information, gaps in the texts, and now this.

_"Someone has taken to conceal information about the dementors."_

And it must have been long ago, judging by the yellowed edge of the rips. The history books, encyclopaedias... they had gone to great lengths to hide the information.

_"Why?"_

She felt her curiosity awaken.

And she always grew with challenges.

* * *

Draco was... surprised was a very light way to put it. Potter was of the Lord dementors lineage! Or at least of the same lineage.

_"Well, they are of the same family. Surely Potter descends from a brother or uncle or something, of the Dementor Lord. So, what? It doesn´t have to matter to me. Does it?"_

What mattered to him, the possible family ties between them?

 _"I should be happy for the luck I've had, and not give it more weight than it has."_ He nodded to himself. Yes, that would be best. He couldn´t imagine any possible relationship between the knucklehead kind Auror, and the sadistic monster boss of the tower. So better not think about it.

Harry had noticed the sudden rigidity of the small dementor when he said that he was the one who had removed the needles, but decided not to comment on it. At the end of the day, he didn´t know what he had gone through, and didn´t want to ask questions that could hurt him.

Both stared awkwardly, neither knowing what to say...

"Grrrrr!" - Draco turned completely red and put a hand to his stomach.

Harry couldn´t help it.

Suddenly, Potter's merry laughter filled the room.

"Ha, ha. What's so funny? I have been days without eating, is a perfectly normal reaction." - Malfoy crossed his arms indignantly.

"I….Sorry"- Harry said, trying not to laugh. His reaction had been so funny...

Draco snorted. _"Commoners."_

"Okay, okay, I will stop laughing." - But a smile was still dancing on his lips. –"I have better put some solution to that hunger, before the roaring monster decides to eat me."

The joke made Draco blush even more, who made a sound of disgust. But before he could answer Potter was already talking.

"Fancy some porridge? There´s still quite a bit left from breakfast..." – And stopped in midsentence, getting suddenly serious, recalling a detail. _"He's a dementor, they don´t eat food."_ He looked at the white, feebly. – "Although if you prefer some memory, I..."

"The porridge it´s well enough!" – Draco replied sharply.

Harry looked at the little dementor, perplexed. The white cleared his throat timidly.

"What I mean, is that the porridge is good for me. It´s okay if I also asked for a glass of water?"

Potter grinned, eyes sparkling. Draco knew he had said the right thing.

"Of course. No problem." - Harry didn´t even think why a dementor would eat food, instead of memories.

The bowl of porridge had been thoroughly cleaned of food, and now rested on the floor at Draco's foot. Both of them were sitting in the makeshift mountain of pallets, in the absence of a better seat.

Draco felt full and relaxed. However inside himself remained a slight feeling of hunger, as if he really didn´t need to eat more, but felt like taking dessert. And he knew why it was he was feeling that way. _"The curse goes on ..."_ Clenched his fists frustrated.

"... Name?"

"E?" - He hadn´t been paying attention to Potter, and smiled kindly, to cover it.

"I was asking about your name. You still haven´t told me how to call you."

_"Damn, what can I say? Come on Draco, think."_

"I don´t think you could pronounce my name. Our language is not prepared for your throat." - _"Good response"_ Congratulated himself for his cunning.

"But I have to call you somehow." – Potter insisted awkwardly, like a teenager asking for the name of the girl he likes. Strangely Draco found himself thinking of it as something adorable, instead of stupid. He shook himself mentally.

"Give me a name." – He suggested. _"That´s it, spare me the job."_

"Really? Wouldn´t you rather choose?"

"It's okay if you do it for me. You will be the one to use it, after all." - Finally Harry nodded, but did not seem entirely convinced.

"Maybe ... Viely. - Just said blushing slightly. - Means white, not very original, I kno..."

"I like it." - Draco interrupted him. It was strange, but even a terribly obvious and boring name as it was, Viely sounded good. And for some reason, it being chosen by Potter and no other, made it really beautiful.

"Do you ... like it?" - Harry felt a smile threatened to stretch the corners of his lips.

"Yes, sounds good." -Shrugged, trying to downplay his feelings.

The Auror smiled so brightly that the image was recorded in Dracos mind as a memory that would always accompany him.

"Viely then."

The name on his lips sounded like a sweet smoke, of which Draco knew, he could become intoxicated.

"You haven´t told me your name." - Barely whispered, breathlessly.

"Oh, I'm sorry. - ruffled his hair nervously- my name is Harry."

_"As if I could forget it"_

"Thanks for _…-"Saving me? Giving me a name? For being be so warm and friendly, and for your smile, and ..."_ \- for everything. Thanks for everything, Harry." - The seriousness in his voice had a soft sediment. Something the Auror read and drank like a dry plant.

"It´s nothing... Viely."

* * *

His steps were soft on the stone, without disturbing the dust, step down step until his feet began to sink in standing water. Until his tunic was soaked, and the slippery substance reached his knees. Going through it, by corridors silent as tombs, skimming scum-covered walls, to finally stop at a sad cold cell.

Inside, a single figure lay on a filthy mattress, just above water level.

His hair was as black as the hour before dawn, his skin was no longer gilded by the sun's caress. He had been present when it ceased to be, moving to a pale white like the belly of a worm. And he never forgave himself for failing to prevent it. He had failed his best friend when he needed him most, and although Blaise had never blamed him for what happened, he never could help feeling that he could have done more.

He removed his hood.

And put his palms on the bars:

"Blaise."

His voice was barely a whisper, but it was enough to shake the dark lashes as strips of silk. The vampire opened his eyes. Dull hungry red, barely contained, surrounded by deep purple circles.

"Draco." – He whispered. Blaise rose wearily to approach his friend. Even with bars separating them, the vampire stretched out his arms through them to embrace him. They hugged each other through the metal, both seeking the comfort of the other in this nightmare that was Azkaban.

"Sorry I couldn´t come sooner." - Draco's words were muffled by his lips being posed in Blaises hair, where they had gone to rest in their embrace.

"It's okay, but I was worried. I thought that the monster could have made you something." - The temblor of his best friend, didn´t go unnoticed. – "Draco?"-

"It´s nothing." - Barely whispered.

"No shit! What has he done?" – And separated from him slightly to see his face. The sad eyes away from his… In that instant, he wanted to be free, just to embed his claws inside the Dementor Lord's chest, through his ribs and around the heart, squeezing slowly to observe, peacefully, as life was extinguished from his eyes. Even if he knew something like that wouldn´t kill him. But it would be very satisfying.

"Draco?"

"Can we, please, leave it? I don´t want to talk about it." – Blaise thought for a moment in insisting, but finally he closed his mouth, because he could see clearly the pain his friend was in.

"Potter helped you?"

Draco nodded.

"He's being good with me. Although I don´t know yet how to make him help breaking this curse." - Blaise smiled, the smile wrinkles caused the spider lines to flatten in his tired skin, making him seem more vital than he actually was.

"Don´t worry. I have convinced Granger to do it." - Draco's eyes widened as an owls.

"How…?"

Blaise told the story of Fenrrir´s attack and how he saved the Auror.

Draco listened… and hugged him far more tightly. Tears threatened to slide down the curve of his cheek. But even if they did not fall, the vampire could smell the salt in them.

"Draco?"

"Do not foolishly put yourself in danger!" - Hissed breathlessly.

"... "– Balise understood the feelings of his friend, he felt the same. They were all that was left in their world, they two and Pansy. All three were more than friends, were the family and the support of the others. What if any of them got hurt? It was a thought so horrible he couldn´t even take having it inside his head.

"Sorry." - Whispered, stroking Dracos back.

For a few minutes they continued to embrace, until Draco calmed down enough that his rational mind returned to operation. They separated, but neither really wanted to.

"You are hungry, and I have to return before Potter notes I left." - Had taken advantage of Harry sleeping and eating breakfast with his peers in the guardroom, to go down and see Blaise before anyone saw him. He hoped at this time the Dementors will be in the tower.

"Draco, you don´t need to do it. You aren´t fine." - But Draco could see the need in the wrinkled skin of his friend, and the red of his hungry eyes, and he could not go, knowing he could do something to help.

"I want to. Blaise, you need it, and I will not let you starve if I can help it". - The vampire hesitated. He was so hungry...

"Come on." – And extended his wrist between the bars, offering the pale, naked skin.

Blaise wanted to resist, he really wanted to. But he was so thirsty, couldn´t contain it anymore, and all he could do, was try to be as gentle as possible, when he took the thin arm between his hands. Bent his head, touching the thin skin with his lips in an almost apologetic kiss.

He could feel the pulse and the flow of blood under his lips, smell Draco. Vanilla, nutmeg, sweat, and that indefinable something that was only him. He didn´t know how, even after seven years after, he could still perceive fragrance of vanilla and nutmeg in his skin, and thought that, maybe, those smells simply were part of what was Draco.

Carefully, parted his lips and let his fangs elongate by the hunger, little points as pins that pierced the skin without trouble. Blaise licked the first drops of blood, and it was like he couldn´t stop, started drinking with passion, like a madman.

The blood of his best friend was dark and warm, like a drink that had been left cool the warmth of life had already begun to leave, but still retained enough to heat his icy stomach. It was sweet and sticky like melted caramel and ripe strawberries, gently spiced. And had a core, an exotic background, that only a discerning palate, as the vampire's, would appreciate; The essence of a pure blood.

Draco felt his breath become deeper and his pulse quicken. The point where Blaises fangs had pierced the skin seemed so hot that he thought he would be burnt. The warmth began to spread to the rest of his body, weakening his legs, so his body had to slip against the bars, and he ended sitting on the floor with his forehead against the cold metal. Between his thighs the flutter of butterflies began to awaken his member. His breath came in short little bursts of air.

Blaise began to feel intoxicated by the blood, the smell of Draco and the sensual rhythm of his heartbeat. He could hear his breathing becoming deeper, as his blood ran faster and faster, until the roar was like a song as sexy as destructive. He wanted to drown in it and drink all that was Draco, eat him, own him.

His own member stood up in response to his desires.

Sweat began to slide down Dracos neck, as the pale wet hair stuck to its forehead and cheeks, like a caress. Blaise's lips on his wrist had become a point of stimulus so powerful that his body shook. His cock was so swollen ... and felt so wet ... his free hand slid up to it. He began to feel somewhat dizzy, almost drunk with pleasure. Stroked gently, without really noticing the gesture, without really thinking. The delicate touch tore a trembling moan from his throat, and the sound tore a twin one from the vampire.

Blaise didn´t know where he began and ended Draco. He was so full of his essence… could feel it run through his own veins. Dracos moan was so delicate that made his desire flame, desire to re-listen it. He wanted to take him in his arms. To possess him. He drank more frenzied, with abandoned passion. Draco's moans as a melody of pleasure, one after another, each one more subtle and muted than the last. Inflaming his desire, causing a vigorous throb between his thighs.

Draco's body would have slipped loose until he plunged into the icy water, but one of the vampire's arms had wound around his waist and held him upright when nothing else did. He trembled, and was covered in sweat, and his hips moved very slightly, undulating movements of pleasure. But his hand had fallen loose, too exhausted to move. Was frozen and yet seemed to be burning, and was so tired he could only go with the increasingly fierce wave of pleasure, that was swirling in his stomach.

The ecstasy was so close ... Blaise opened his eyes for a moment. The groans of Draco had gone in to the soft whisper of his choked breath. And then he saw his friend in the edge of death… for his sake. His parted lips were blue and shiny wet with saliva. His skin pale moon, hair slicked with sweat. Gently shaking in the grip of a killing passion.

He was so beautiful…

Blaise parted his lips from the wrist, and his body exploded with ecstasy. The intensity of the movement of his fangs, retracting from the skin, took Draco to orgasm at the same time. It was like a wave that engulfed them both, and made them feel loved and away from hell for one bright moment.

**Continue**


	10. Magic

**Harry Potter is property of JK Rowling. I write this out of pure personal pleasure, and the desire to bring happiness to other fans. And my pockets don´t want anything in return. Thanks.**

**Warning:** This story contains yaoi, it means love between men. As much as drama and suffering, supernatural creatures and sex related scenes.

 **Summary:** When seven years after the war, Draco Malfoy escapes from his cell in Azkaban, the ministry has no choice but to send his best Auror, Harry Potter, to capture him again. Between the walls of the world's toughest prison, Harry will discover not only the origin of the most terrifying creatures, but a love against time.

 **Note:** A bit more slash. And well… Reviews please? I really, really need some to keep me going. ;-;

 

**Dementor Kiss**

**Chapter 10 - Magic**

_Blaise parted his lips from the wrist, and his body exploded with ecstasy. The intensity of the movement of his fangs, retracting from the skin, took Draco to orgasm at the same time. It was like a wave that engulfed them both, and made them feel loved and away from hell for one bright moment._

* * *

 

For a moment he remained completely bland. Lack of blood, and being waist deep in icy muddy water, only worsening the chills that had begun to take over his body. Blaises arms curled around his back, and drew him a little closer. The bars that separated them jabbed their chests, but Draco didn´t care when he could feel lips on his forehead. They were warm from the given blood, and that made him smile slightly, despite everything else.

He missed the warmth of his best friend.

"I'm sorry, I've taken so much." – Draco felt the sound against his skin.

"It's okay. Besides, we have enjoyed it, and that's good for me." – His hands slipped between the metal bars and delved in the dark curly hair of Blaise. Playing with his curls as the blond knew he loved.

"Don´t try to distract me, that technique became useless when we were eight." - But Blaises voice had a slight tone of amused surprise. His embrace became a tad narrower, and his nose sank into the soft blond hair from Draco's temple. – "What would I do without you?"

The small laugh of Draco sounded like an old and tarnished bell, a sound that was trying to be cheerful, but contained the sadness of someone who has seen too much, and was too much spent. And the echo was too suffering for a person that young. Something that spooked of lost innocence, and immense sadness. And the sound made Blaise bite his tongue to keep still and quiet. Because he had to hold the pieces of his friend on site and keep him whole, and not grab the bars that separated them and shout with all this might, and try to pull them out, which was what he really wanted to do, but that he knew would be useless.

Instead he kissed the soft and delicate skin of the pale temple and forehead, the tip of his upturned nose, and the curve of his cheek sunken by hunger, sleep, and suffering. And wondered how hunger could have sculpted his face, to make it the most beautiful and fragile sight possible.

With those eyes, so clear, surrounded by delicate mauve dark circles, so deep and sad you could drown in them. Those fine glassy lips wet with saliva, which had the same colour of the roses from the garden of his mansion, that last summer they were free. And that pale skin thin as tissue paper, under which, he could read, if he really tried, the entire map of fine spider web like, purple veins.

He kissed the corner of his mouth, and the tears that even Draco didn´t know was pouring, and licked them with the tip of his tongue making the pearly drops his. Savouring them like he had tasted his blood. They were salty and cold, as much as his best friend, shaking and shivering without a complaint passing his lips.

Offering the heat of his just fed body, he tightened the hug even more, and Draco's hands slipped from his hair to his neck, returning the hug.

They hugged each other as hard as they could with the metal bars in the middle, as a last shield taking away two bodies, that otherwise, would have been put together as puzzle pieces. Pressing so hard against them, that later would be marks on their skins. Marks of metal and desperately clinging fingers, but none cared the least. So they kept it for a while, a few minutes or an hour, but no more than that. Because they both knew that this momentary consolation had to end, if they wanted to really be saved anyway.

Finally was Draco who spoke first, and made the first effort to unravel their members.

"I have to go."

"I know." – They looked at each other.

"I will come again soon. - Said Draco quietly, almost as an apology. - Would you tell Pansy that I'm all right?"

"It´s a few days now that I haven´t see her. But when I do, I will." – Blaise didn´t even consider the possibility of not seeing her again, like he wasn´t ever going to contemplate the possibility of never seeing Draco again.

Draco frowned worried. What could have happened to Pansy?

"Don´t make that face. She´s the best located of us three. The guard would not let anything happen to her. Surely with the aurors swarming Azkaban, they have kept her locked. As things calm down a bit, Pansy will come to see me. Don´t worry."

Blaise's words got Draco little calm. Unfortunately he couldn´t go and look for Pansy, not unless he wanted to see her confined to a cell again.

The only reason she was still fine, was because when interrogated with verisaterum had nothing to tell.

And the best thing for her was to continue that way.

He had not seen her since he was cursed, and both, the one and the other, knew they were fine thanks to Blaise.

Luckily the vampires were not affected by that potion, otherwise he wouldn´t even have been able to see his other friend.

Without verisaterum, and torture being banned by the ministry, there was little anyone could do to make him confess, and anyway, the guards would not have allowed it. For different reasons, but the result was the same. And Draco was able to see his best friend.

"Go. If you delay, Potter might suspect something." – Blaise helped his friend up holding his arms and pulling gently upwards.

Draco stumbled a bit, due to the weakness cursing in his nearly empty veins, but soon recovered. The curse making its work in sustaining his life.

"I will come as soon as I can." - Said as he took the first step back.

"That's what you always say." - His friend replied with a smile that did not reach his eyes. Draco wanted to erase it, and replace this false one with the real smile that he missed so much, but he had no time. – "Be careful." - Finally said with a hint of sadness hidden in the background.

"You too." - Blaise replied.

And those were the last words they exchanged, a moment before Draco began to retrace his steps back to the room. -

He felt wet, cold, and a little dizzy. But much happier than when he had left.

Maybe he was too tired, or dizzy, or just was that the man was really quiet. But in the end it was irrelevant the why, because he didn´t feel him approach.

Draco was putting his hand on the knob of the door leading to the ground floor from the basement, when a hand closed around his arm abruptly flipping his body. His head hit the cold metal of the door, getting him momentarily stunned.

"Have you missed me?" - The voice was calm and collected in the stale air of Azkaban. As lazy as cigarette smoke. As lethal as cancer. Draco gulped and looked up.

"Tomas." - His voice did not quite tremble.

The guard was the same as always. Dressed in a black regular guard coat, that just made him look skinnier and taller than he was. His light brown hair neatly pasted to the skull and aquiline features, hard and sharp as ice chips. His mouth was tight in a constant grimace of bitterness, his blue eyes as empty as mirrors.

"You haven´t answered my question." – His hand slipped of Dracos hood in a gesture almost of tenderness, until his face was uncovered. Big blue cruel eyes looked for the terror that he himself had carved there. The vision gave him a feeling of justice, even if he would never admit having missed it.

He had missed the brightness of those light eyes flooded with tears, the point just when that beautiful voice broke unable to issue one more cry, the way the smooth pale body adapted to his when the blond had stopped fighting.

Draco was a Death Eater, a murderer, a creature of upper vile and despicableness, and the son of a monster. But sometimes the most horrible taste could look the most sweet and appetizing. Draco was like a rotten fruit covered in caramel topping and sugar icing, fresh baked cream and cotton candy. All delicate sweetness concealing a corrosive and ulcerating poison.

"I ... "- Draco knew he had to say something, but his voice broke and his eyes began to flood. Lately he did nothing but cry.

Tomas nodded slightly, imperturbable.

"Right, cry, it´s the least you can do for all the people you have hurt." – The guard stroked his cheek with long fingers like spider legs. One of the tears slid across his check, until Tomas took it, and looked at the perfect crystal drop for a moment.

It almost seemed real.

Draco began to shake more violently, and not only from cold, eyes pinned to Tomas's face, wanting nothing more than to close them, but not daring to do it. He remembered well the lessons learned over the past seven years, and a couple of weeks away from his master wasn´t enough time to forget. And although he had prayed endlessly for not having to need them again, now he could not help but follow them to the letter.

Which entailed not looking away from him, no matter if his throat was torn by the screams, or if he could barely stay conscious. His eyes couldn´t move away from him, it would entail aggravating much, much more, his situation.

"It seems that you haven´t forgotten what I teached you. - Said dispassionately. - That's fine. I would have been disappointed otherwise." - Tomas put his hand in his pocket, his eyes, so cold, glueled to Draco's own. – "It's taken time to have you away from any of them. The Dementor Lord is watching you right. I don´t blame him, there are very few who can see beyond that pretty face of yours." - He took out his wand. Draco stuck his back to the door. – "But I do know what's underneath. You are like your father. A dark and disgusting creature." - Posed the wooden tip on his throat. – "And the only reason I haven´t killed you yet, is because someone like you doesn´t deserve that relief." - His last words contained such hatred, they might have been acid.

Draco wanted to shout that he was innocent. He hadn´t chosen to be marked, had not chosen to be Lucius son, or killed anyone, and in fact had not ever done anything that went beyond some small insults and cruelty, more fruit of pride and an a childish attitude, who had long since gone, than anything else. But he knew it would be as useless now, as it had been seven years ago. At least now, he knew enough to stay quiet and not provoke his tormentor.

The wand gently lifted his chin and lips brushed his. Tomas. It was very soft and tender, like a caress. Sometimes the guard could be horribly sweet. Draco felt nauseous. Lips against lips became bruising and hard. And then just a brush:

"I know I can´t touch you, because that bastard Dementor Lord will kill Henry if I do. – He whispered in his mouth. - But sooner or later he will tire of you, or you will get him angry enough. And when he withdraws his protection… I'll be there. Don´t forget it. – Started turning away from the trembling young. - The murderers always get their punishment."

Tomas, finally, turned his back on him, and walked away melting into the shadows of the hallway.

"This has been a reminder." - The faint sound of his voice in the distance, and faint disappearing steps, was the last thing Draco saw of him.

A couple of minutes passed with Draco so very still. His legs felt weak, and the dizziness had returned in full force. He managed to straighten through sheer willpower. He had to get out, had to return to the shelter of the store.

Felt like if he didn´t start walking, he would cease to function and would collapse like a sand castle.

Slowly, one step ahead of the other, the weak blonde started the way home.

There was only one thing keeping him whole, the memory of Potter.

The only thing, the only thing in his battered and almost completely demolished heart, that had not been corrupted in one way or another. Harry, who was so kind and pure ... the only entirely good thing left in his existence. -

Getting to the store had been pure agony. He was so cold ... the fear in his stomach coiled like a snake, trying to devour him from the inside. The memories were threatening to take over his mind and make him vomit.

But thoughts of those green eyes got him the strength to finally get to the door, and turn the knob.

"Hey! You had me worried. Where were you?"

The aurors voice filled Draco with relief, whose legs finally gave out. Quick seeker reflexes threw Harry forward like a panther. And the powerful embrace of the dark haired man closed around Draco a moment before hitting the ground.

"Sorry. – Draco murmured faintly against the fabric of his shirt. - Strength has failed me."

The Auror lifted him easily, as if he were a lady, leading him to "bed".

"It's okay. But you shouldn´t have left if you were feeling weak. Somebody could have seen you. Why did you leave?" – Harry was perplexed and worried at the little who seemed to be shaking. He was so cold! Carefully he embraced his thin body against his chest, wrapping Viely in the folds of his coat.

"I just wanted some fresh air."

"Next time, wait for me. I'll go with you. Merlin you are frozen." – Harry rested his chin on top of the hooded head and began to rub his back.

A sigh escaped Draco's lips. It was so nice. The heat of Harry was of a type that more than the body warmed the heart. It felt so good...

He looked up, at green worried looking eyes. _"For me?"_ He thought, and found himself smiling faintly. How could this knucklehead made him feel much better than his best friend?

It was really a mystery.

He looked more closely.

But maybe it was not so much so. That unbrushable hair soft as feathers, his strength, not just physical or magical, that indefinable magnetism that enveloped you like a security blanket. The incredible green eyes that you could sink in, the fleshy lips...

And then, it happened.

He didn´t even realize what he was doing until his lips brushed Harrys.

And then it was too late to stop.

The first contact of skin against skin.

He shivered, the feeling of thousands of butterfly wings caressing his nerves. A sigh escaped their lips.

A flash of magic enveloped them like static electricity.

And there was no turning back.

Harry's lips gently pushed Draco's, which opened up without any other gesture. Opening with the timidity of those who don´t quite know what to do. This was not like all those times he had been forced. This was a gesture chosen by himself, it was an offer not made to anyone before. And Harry knew to treat it as such.

His tongue slipped inside to caress the tip of his, urging him to play, to go after him. Draco laughed slightly tickled. How long was since he had laughed at all? He followed Harry's tongue into his mouth. They stroked each other, drinking the other's saliva.

Harry's hands curled around his waist and down his thighs, caressing, exploring through the fabric of his tunic. Attracting the Auror, Draco sighed in his hair, caressing the curve of his neck, fingers twisting in the impossible tangle of dark locks.

And all the time the magic seemed to pulse, getting stronger and more consistent. A perfect melody, an unparalleled symphony. A meeting of tongues and hands, and bodies that sought each other through the fabric.

Draco fell back on the stacked pallets, and Harry followed covering him with his body. Kissing like there was no tomorrow, and maybe even if neither of them knew it, there wasn´t.

Harry slid his hands under the fabric of his tunic, lifting and twisting it until it was around the waist of Viely, and could observe the perfection of his slender long legs, and the hair almost translucent, smooth as silk, covering the cavity between his thighs, in which rested his most precious treasure, now half filled with pleasure.

"You aren´t wearing underwear." - Whispered half perplexed, breathing deep and sensual.

"No ... I´m not." – Draco barely murmured, flushed with an addictive mixture of embarrassment and pleasure. Almost involuntarily parting his thighs.

Harry's hands caressed and curled around his waist, and Draco moaned at the touch of the auror on the sensitive skin. Harry smiled slightly.

Vielys delicate hands slid under his shirt caressing nipples that stood up on the spot. Harry impatiently pulled his shirt up and threw it into a corner, without worrying at all about where it fell.

His skin was tanned by the sun, golden and expanded on a torso as defined, large and athletic, that compared to his, made Draco's look just like a too pale layer of skin on thin bones like a birds. And felt ashamed that Harry could see it.

He squirmed slightly under the weight of the Auror. It was like being under a blanket beneath a too high spell of heat, and it was too little and too much at the same time, and he attracted the Auror screwing him with his legs and arms. His cock pressed against Harry's pelvis and his own hard member encased by the fabric of his pants. The moan that was torn from his lips was almost like a plea.

"I want to make you mine." - The hoarse voice of Harry, bursting with desire, paralyzed him for a moment.

He was afraid. Those words had never presaged anything good. But the magic around them was like a whisper urging him forward, and the green eyes were so full, so intense and brilliant ... Draco didn´t know of what. Or rather didn´t want to know. He wasn´t ready, yet, to admit something so big and intense, even though his heart seemed crazy on his chest, wanting to leave, and his breathing was so ragged, that, for a moment, he feared not being able to respond.

"Make me yours." - The words left his lips in a breath.

And that was all it took.

Harry wanted to take his robe but Draco didn´t let him, and Harry respected that desire, burying his face in the perfect curve of his lower belly, and taking off his own pants and black underwear.

Harry licked the delicate skin with the desire of those who are starving, going down with kisses and licks until he reaches his goal, and stroked the length of Vielys cock with his cheek, tender and sweet.

Draco watched breathlessly, letting out moan after moan of pleasure filled disbelief, and when the wet appendage started stroking his entrance, and preparing him with all the devotion of a worshiper who makes a prayer, he thought he would cry for the incredible tenderness of the gesture.

He was ready, wet, squirming, sighing with pleasure, and all, all he wanted, was to feel Harry inside him. He needed him so much...

The magic was making Draco crazy with the delicate whisper of his presence, made him feel like a big emptiness inside that needed to be filled, that only Harry could fill. And that, was driving him mad.

The Auror positioned over his body.

Biceps taut, wet hair, the sexiest, predatoriest look he had ever seen, hypnotized him like a snake, pinning him under it. And then Harry began pushing gently and steadily, penetrating, taking, possessing and filling him as he had not been before.

He supposed he should be afraid, or at least feel some distaste for an act which so far had only brought pain and humiliation. But the truth, the real truth, was that he was tearing inside from pleasure and love. Merlin! Harry had begun to move.

Powerful onslaught after onslaught. Touching his pleasure centre with each one, making him moan, scream, writhe desperately. Lifting his hips to meet him every time.

Harry seemed a God of bronze sweat beaded skin, that had decided to make Draco his own against any force that tried to stop him. His breath came in explosive puffs of air, his muscles contracted and flexed like a horse in a race. His eyes were fierce, wild like a green flame. As the Avada Kedavra, as lightning. His lips claimed Dracos in a passionate last act of possession, and both exploded in an incredible wave of savage pleasure, rising, growing and growing until the magic roared in their ears like a gale and echoed in their blood like a mermaid song, and Harry´s semen flooded his insides like liquid fire, before the darkness claimed them both.

Ron was frustrated, well, actually, a lot more than frustrated. Why had the bloody elves to be so stubborn? Let's see, all he wanted to know was who had been taking food from the kitchen, and they acted as if he were asking for the secret of eternal life!

All quiet, and down ears.

He made a resigned sigh.

Ron wasn´t going to torture them to extract information, it was cruel, and verisaterum wouldn´t work with no humans ... so yeah. The ginger auror was very frustrated.

He took another kick at the pebble he had found on the floor, a few aisles back. Supposedly he was looking for Malfoy, but by now he was beginning to think that the ferret had died and that the guards tried to cover it up somehow. The reason wasn´t clear, but he didn´t believe that Malfoy was the one who had dropped Fenrrir into Hermione.

Let's see, who in their right mind will set loose a hungry werewolf, with oneself as the closer prey? Unless you had a wand, which he knew Draco hadn´t. He had no reason to do it. Which meant that the guards wanted Hermione dead, so she couldn´t find out something. But what?

He took another kick to the pebble, and was about to repeat the move when he turned the corner of the next aisle.

"…What?"

Kneeling on the floor there was a woman covered by a worn grey dress. It was of simple worn out cut, she seemed a maid. An idea that was reinforced by the soapy water bucket beside her. In his hand she held a cloth which with she was rubbing the floor. Her dark hair was so short it barely brushed her jaw, and her skin looked pale as ash.

She seemed to hear the sound of surprise, and looked up.

"Pansy Parkinson?"

The brown owl of MacGonagal looked up from one of the tiny hangers in the owlery of Azkaban, a bundle tied to her leg.

Hermione walked over to pick it up, one of the elves had just informed her of the arrival, and immediately decided to go for it.

"Good, Archimedes. Are you hungry?" - Offered some sweets to the owl to eat, while she untied the package and returned it to its normal size with a quick spell.

MacGonagal had apparently sent another book, and there was a note attached to the brown paper wrapping.

_"Dear Hermione._

_I am sending this precious volume only because of the urgency of the work that you are doing, and with the full knowledge that you know how to care for it as it deserves. It´s a magical tome containing all the knowledge of the one who created it, that only shows to ones with a clean heart who really need it. I hope you find it helpful._

_Sincerely Minerva MacGonagal. "_

Hermione, dragged by curiosity, broke the wrapping paper.

 _"My Journal"_ And was signed; _"Godric Gryffindor"_

Her breath choked a moment.

"The Journal of Godric Gryffindor ..." **Continue.**


	11. Secrets

**Harry Potter is property of JK Rowling. I write this out of pure personal pleasure, and the desire to bring happiness to other fans. And my pockets don´t want anything in return. Thanks.**

**Warning:** This story contains yaoi, it means love between men. As much as drama and suffering, supernatural creatures and sex related scenes.

 **Summary:** When seven years after the war, Draco Malfoy escapes from his cell in Azkaban, the ministry has no choice but to send his best Auror, Harry Potter, to capture him again. Between the walls of the world's toughest prison, Harry will discover not only the origin of the most terrifying creatures, but a love against time.

 

**Dementor Kiss**

**Chapter 11 - Secrets.**

_Hermione, dragged by curiosity, broke the wrapping paper._

_"My Journal"_ _And was signed;_ _"Godric Gryffindor"_

_Her breath choked a moment._

_"The Journal of Godric Gryffindor ..."_

* * *

Waking up that morning was like rediscovering life. Every little detail glowed with a new quality and a powerful charm, that made him want to live as he hadn´t desired for years.

Perhaps along his existence in Azkaban, slowly and gradually, almost without realizing, he had been losing the will to fight, and the desire to move forward had been eroding to end in the simple, primordial survival craving, that has everything living. So much so, that in the end, life itself almost had ceased to matter.

But that night, somehow, being in the arms of Harry, feeling his warmth, his desire... all that he was, Draco had found something really worth living for. Someone who, even being cursed, and thrust into hell, even having lost all that he had, on many more levels than just the physical could cover, made him felt that in spite of everything, he could be happy. Harry, for a few hours, had made him feel real and truly happy. And that was something worth living for.

He turned on his back with a smile, without opening his eyes, and extended a hand hoping to find the warm body of the Auror, but his fingers only found blankets still warmth from his skin.

Perplexed, gray eyes opened slowly.

"Harry?" – His voice barely whispered, still half in the clutches of sleep. The blankets were empty. And his heart fell a bit, even as he looked around, but the Auror wasn´t in the room. Draco swallowed, trying to squash the worry. There were thousands of reasons for Harry to have to leave. No?

An angry little voice, which he recognized as his pride, started yelling that there was no reason good enough for his partner to go away, out of bed, the morning after their first night together. And Draco was starting to get angry, when his gaze fell in a folded sheet resting on the pillow.

He almost fell from over his haste to take it. Took a deep breath and smiled shakily, as he recognized the aurors handwriting.

 _"To Viely"_ was written in his characteristic disorder with simple black ink, on a sheet of parchment so white; he must have conjured it especially for Draco. His finger ran over the paper gently, feeling warm and almost giddy with joy. And unfolded the note:

 _"Viely, you can´t even imagine how many times I've rewritten this before getting a half decent attempt."_ – Draco smiled, imagining the Auror all frustrated with the sheet he was holding, and smiled.- _"Truth is that I started writing just to tell you that I had to go and continue with the investigation. I will return this afternoon. (You slept so soundly that I didn´t want to wake you.) But when picking up the feather I discovered a thousand things to say. So many that it all came over in an incomprehensible mess. Several attempts only brought the same result. Why it´s so difficult? In the end I decided it would be best to make it as simple as possible, otherwise I wouldn´t ever finish."-_ Draco knew Harry would have been smiling when writing this. - _"I love you."_ \- Those two words made, for a moment, the world tilt. "Harry ... loves me." His heart jumped, his cheeks reddened. "Harry loves me." His breath quickened, his eyes widened. "Harry loves me!" Tears started rolling down his cheeks; Draco pressed the paper against his chest. "HARRY LOVES ME!" He doubled over and began to cry in earnest. Felt the almost irresistible urge to run after him, to tell Harry that he too ...

"I ... love him." His heart throbbed finally admitting what he had been trying to evade. "I'm in love. In love with Harry." His hand crept toward his mouth stifling the words.

"I love him." - Weak murmured, broken, words.

That changed everything. Harry hated lies. Merlin, he even asked the Sorting Hat to put him in Gryffindor, shunning slytherin! -"If he finds that I've been lying ... he would hate me. No, he hates me. If he learns about it, it will be much, much worse; he will not want to even look at me. Ever!" -Draco swallowed convulsively. What could he do? He couldn´t lose Harry! He couldn´t bear even thinking about it. Draco knew that if he saw once the spark of hate in those green eyes he loved so much, he would shatter.

Until now Draco had endured thanks to Blaise, Pansy, and his unwavering decision to go on. But now he had found Harry, and finally admitted his feelings, the warm auror had become the center of his world. If he leaved, if Harry departed from him, Draco wouldn´t be able to resist as before. He would break as a glass figure that hits the ground.

He had only one exit.

"I have ... I have to tell the truth."

* * *

The guardroom was empty except for her. Henry and Tomas were supposedly in their rooms. And Ron and Harry investigating.

The fireplace was the only source of light, orange flames that changed merrily the game of lights and shadows dancing on the book she held.

"The Journal of Godric Gryffindor."

Hermione stood sitting on her mattress in front of the fireplace. The thick book resting on her lap. Her mind pondering if she should or not, try to read it. Reading the diary of someone else, didn´t seem ethical. But then, perhaps, it contained the information she needed. And anyway MacGonagal had judged her worthy of the responsibility. Although still remained the issue of it not being hers. Her brow wrinkled determinedly.

 _"Okay. Just read what you need and avoid anything that seems too personal."_ In addition MacGonagal had said that only someone worthy could read it. If Griffindor put that spell, he probably already knew that his diary would be read. So actually invading his privacy wouldn´t be so wrong, right? Mione grabbed the tape and opened it before she got a chance at changing her mind.

"A blank page ..." - the paper yellowed by time was blank. There was nothing written. Or it hadn´t been until a moment ago. Elegant gold letters slowly began to creep in to the page, as written by an invisible hand.

"Good night, Miss Granger."

Mione got startled. That was too close to Voldemort's Horcrux diary.

"Ja, ja, ja. I'm Not a Horcrux. Merely a book with a lot more intelligence than most."

"Are you reading my mind?" – She didn´t know whether to feel outraged or fascinated by the complexity of the object.

"Only your surface thoughts. And before you ask any more questions, maybe you should think about the Sorting Hat and its intelligence. You didn´t believe that it was was the only sentient object Godric made, did you?"

Hermione thought for a moment. She sensed no dark magic in the object, and it was send by MacGonagal herself. So…

She nodded.

"All right. You are a very smart book."

"Created by Godric Gryffindor to protect his memories."

Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"You are a little cocky, right?"

"... Well. I don´t usually have many opportunities to talk to anyone."

Mione further raised her eyebrow.

"Okay, okay. Suppose you wanted to know something, right?"

The Auror nodded. What to ask first? She decided to start over with what had caught her attention in recent days. With the debt she owed.

"Could you tell me about the dementors? All the information I've found is incomplete. Any help would be appreciated."

The page remained blank for a moment.

"... You don´t make little demands, e? Alright, I see that your curiosity is sincere and that you harbor in your heart no more than good intentions. So I'll tell you."

Mione read stunned, as the missing story slowly unraveled before her. The story of the Dementors, the Dark Lord that led them, and how had been lost all knowledge of them.

"Early in the society of magicians, centuries before the birth of my creator, all the large culture of witches and wizards, was beginning to take the shape that would end up with. And with the popular election of the first leader, who later became known as the prime minister of magic, also emerged the first laws and rules, and the beginning of what would become the ministry.

Magic is a great power that requires great responsibility. The leader and his council knew that with no punishment to fear, there would be many wizards who would not hesitate to use this gift to commit monstrous crimes.

So he sought a punishment so terrible, so awful, it would prevent any such intentions.

Nobody really knows how it was created. But yes what finally emerged from that search.

The Dementor curse.

You might not know, but it was previously thought that the magic of a wizard went to another body when he died, and was reborn in a new shape. No memories or experiences, of course, but their magical essence. This was how the birth of muggleborns was explained. When there was no magical child waiting to be born, the magical essence sought other appropriate receptacle. So even if he died, a wizard would remain forever in an endless cycle of birth and death.

That´s why the Dementor's curse is a so terrible punishment.

This curse is the origin of the creatures known as Dementors. Reserved only for the darkest and corruptest criminals, for those whose essence had been so tainted that even rebirth wouldn´t clean it.

It's a curse that captures the essence of the wizard and literally melts it in your flesh. Makes from it a single entity incapable of dying. Forever trapped in a living hell. The body twists and corrupts reflecting what corrodes the spirit. You lose the ability to do magic, because it will no longer responds trapped in your own flesh. An aura of terror and horror surround you, making people shy away from you. See you as a monster. The panic is such that your words will only come as terrifying hisses, leaving the bearer forever alone. Accompanied only by those who are like him. Having to see them every day and remember, thanks to your own deformed appearance, the crimes committed. Knowing that you will never be free of it, because you cannot die.

This new creature ate only one thing, souls. Only when devouring one they felt alive again, accompanied, and the loneliness vanished briefly. They devoured happy memories to replace those they could never have. Extending the coldness of death in life all around them, the victims, in so terrible distress, finally losing their sanity. Ironically the only thing able to scare them was the physical form of these memories. The Patronus. Its purity caused them the anguish of recalling their own happy lost memories.

The leader and his council thought quite well. Not only were they punishing dark wizards, setting an example for all people. But they also had created the perfect guardian. A tireless fearsome creature, whose food could also be used as punishment. Your soul devoured by one of them. A punishment considered more desirable than becoming one of them. So your magical essence could escape untouched to find a new reincarnation.

They created a device that allowed the control of the creatures, and confined them to a single place in the world. Azkaban. From that instant, the island became the prison of the wizarding world, and his more frightening place.

Centuries later it was time for my creator, Godric Gryffindor. Godric was a very powerful wizard of great kindness. He had good friends, a wife who loved him and two children he cherished with his soul. Griever and Garta. Two guys who had the great magical potential and values of his father. Two young men who did fill Godric with pride.

But ...

The power in large measures can corrupt, and Garta and Griever had everything. Power, money, nobility, the admiration of all.

But Griever wanted more. He began to search in dark magic how to be even more powerful. With his alchemy and research developed a ritual that allowed him to absorb the magical essence of others. He killed his mother in the realization of this terrible dark ritual, almost succeeded in murdering his brother, and if he would have succeeded, Griever would have had the power to defeat his father, devour his magic, and become the most powerful dark wizard ever born. However Garta, even if he could not save his mother, and wounded almost to death, managed to reach and warn Godric.

Great was the pain of Gryffindor to know what monster had become his son. But even greater was his sense of duty. He found Griever, hiding in a dark nest that he had created in the bowels of what had been their home. Godric challenged Griever.

The battle was terrible. It opened the earth and made the heavens flash, it created enormous columns of raging fire, monstrous waves, rays that destroyed everything in their path. .. But finally Godric was the conqueror.

His sense of justice led him to take his son to the minister, so he could be fairly tried for his crimes.

Griever was sentenced to the Dementors curse.

His own father spoke the curse before the council of wizards. Although there were tears in his eyes, Godric's voice never wavered while weaving the fate of his son with his magic.

But even as a dementor Griever had such power that he was able to overcome the curse minimally. Retaining as unique human characteristic, his voice.

The ministry saw this as an even more effective way to handle the Dementors, thus having an interpreter capable of communicating with both sides. Soon the new monster took over the leadership of the terrible creatures. Who were among them more powerful, or darker than him?

Thus was born the Dementor Lord. The last of the Dementors.

After that Godric decided to end the use of the curse. Because despite everything, he still loved his son, and would have wanted for him to have a chance to reborn. Even if his soul were stained, he believed it could have been cleaned have it had a second chance. Opportunity none of the Dementors had had.

His reasoning, presented to the ministry, along with a long campaign that brought the magical world in his favor, besides the weight of his name, finally made the curse of the dementor be banned.

Any information on it removed.

The few texts that detailed it, belonging, of course, to the ministry, destroyed. It had been decided to make it disappear completely. Because who could claim that something so terrible could not end, one day, falling into the wrong hands?

That´s how with time, and the ban that prevented anyone from writing about it, all knowledge of its existence was forgotten. And the Dementors came to be seen as dark creatures themselves, without any human origin. "

Hermione didn´t know how to feel. She had just been presented with information that had been lost for centuries! But something suddenly came to her mind.

"So what´s a white dementor?"

"A white dementor is someone under the curse. Someone who is becoming one."

Mione had a terrible feeling.

"Does the curse need blood?"

"Yes. The blood of someone with a strong bond with the victim. A relative, or ...

"Or your best friend."

_"The white dementor is Malfoy."_

**It will continue.**


	12. Broken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When seven years after the war, Draco Malfoy escapes from his cell in Azkaban, the ministry has no choice but to send his best Auror, Harry Potter, to capture him again. Between the walls of the world's toughest prison, Harry will discover not only the origin of the most terrifying creatures, but a love against time.

**Harry Potter is property of JK Rowling. I write this out of pure personal pleasure, and the desire to bring happiness to other fans. And my pockets don´t want anything in return. Thanks.**

**Warning:** This story contains yaoi, it means love between men. As much as drama and suffering, supernatural creatures and sex related scenes.

 **Summary:** When seven years after the war, Draco Malfoy escapes from his cell in Azkaban, the ministry has no choice but to send his best Auror, Harry Potter, to capture him again. Between the walls of the world's toughest prison, Harry will discover not only the origin of the most terrifying creatures, but a love against time.

 

**Dementor Kiss**

**Chapter 12 - Broken.**

_"So what´s a white dementor?"_

_"A white dementor is someone under the curse. Someone who is becoming one."_

_Mione had a terrible feeling._

_"Does the curse need blood?"_

_"Yes. The blood of someone with a strong bond with the victim. A relative, or ..._

_"Or your best friend."_

_"The white dementor is Malfoy."_

* * *

The sensation of skin against skin still accompanied him, as he walked through the dark corridors, in the silent early hours of the morning.

Harry couldn´t stop reliving every moment of the night before. The madness of kisses, fingers sinking into soft like silk flesh, arms and legs tangled in old sheets, of breaths mingling, the smell of dust and sweat and sex.

But more than anything, brighter than anything else, he remembered the confidence, the shyness and tenderness with which Viely had given himself.

He had clung to him as if Harry was the only thing keeping him afloat. He had sought his lips with the shyness of a novice, given his body with the absolute faint of a madman ... or a lover.

And had managed what no one had achieved before. Shake Harry to his very bones.

It couldn´t be said that the Auror had had a poor sexual life.

When he could no longer endure the solitude of his bed, there was always someone willing to fill it for a night or less. Normally a visit to a nightclub was more than enough for the purpose. He never lacked offerings.

But since leaving Ginny almost five years ago, nobody had interested Harry again, not that way. And even his relationship with Ginny, had been a little more like filial love, than like something he might be expected to feel for a lover. Precisely that had been the reason for the end of their relationship. That it couldn´t work that way.

For a while he had looked for some else. Someone who might make him feel something more than a passing interest and desire. But all the people he had been with had been disappointing so far.

The vast majority did not bother to try to know him.

Almost everyone thought they knew everything they needed to know about Harry Potter, having painstakingly read through any newspaper article related to the boy who lived.

Many were only interested in his money, fame or appearance.

And the few who didn´t, seemed to want to pity him for having to bear a fate as hard as the one he had to, without any choice. These were the ones who most troubled him. Because if there was something that Harry didn´t need, was being cared for like a fragile and delicate creature.

If he had learned something from his hard life, was, precisely, to take care of himself and others. At the end of the day everyone had expected Harry to save them. And today a day, at work, they required the exactly same thing from auror Potter.

And he loved it.

Knowing that he was helping people, that there were less criminal in the world thanks to him, less pain and suffering for others, filled him. It made the auror feel good and useful. Gave meaning to his life.

And so far there had been little more than that to it. But it had been a vague happiness. Incomplete.

Harry could be able to die for one who needed it. But he had never felt the need to live for anyone.

Until last night.

When Viely had given himself to Harry, completely.

That creature so delicate and fragile, broken and almost completely shattered, had clung to him as if Harry were the only thing in the world keeping him whole.

As if he were the centre of his existence.

He had entrusted Harry his life, linking it to him with the most sensual and erotic experience he ever had.

And that strange feeling, that wild fire, that relentless need to protect, that had been dancing inside his breath since he first saw the white one on the roof, had crystallized into a single emotion that had turned his world upside down, shaking it like a titanic powerful earthquake.

He had fallen in love.

When the alarm rang, telling him he should go to work, Harry had needed every ounce of his will to depart, as silently as a shadow, from the warm softness of his body. He had wanted to stay, confess his feelings, hug Viely and repeat the incredible experience of last night, never to be separated again. But he couldn´t ignore his responsibilities. Not when there was so much at stake. And Viely would be safe in the store.

So he had written a note.

A few lines that were repeated over and over again, until he had no time left, and finally had to write a note as simple as possible, reserving his feelings for when he returned to his side in the afternoon.

He couldn´t wait.

* * *

Pansy blinked for a moment, not quite sure of what she was seeing:

"Wesley?"

The slightly raspy voice of Parkinson brought Ron down from his surprise.

The red head took out his wand, pointing it menacingly at the woman kneeling on the floor, soapy rag in hand.

"May I know what are you doing outside your cell?" – He still wasn´t sure how was he supposed to act. Should he stop, and let the questioning for later?

"...Cleaning?" – Pansy lifted the cloth in a mocking gesture of doubt. Ron blushed like a teenager.

"That's not what I meant!" - In his quest to not look stupid he didn´t notice the shadow creeping at his back.

"Sorry kid, but it´s necessary."-A grave voice.

Ron turned how fast he could.

"What…?"

"Imperius."

Not fast enough.

* * *

_"The white dementor is Malfoy."_

Hermione massaged her temples and sighed. The multiple implications of what she had discovered were forming in her mind an increasingly macabre map. Something that if she studied thoroughly enough, she was sure, would give her the identity of the culprit.

"But first I need some coffee."

She was already almost two days without sleep, and was starting to feel the ravages of sleep deprivation. But even if she knew she should get some shut eye time. She also knew it would be a futile try. She will not be able to sleep, not with all that information still hovering inside her skull hunting for answers.

So Hermione got up and poured herself a cup of coffee from the thermos that were on the table. Sat by the fire with her hot cup, cradling it in his hands, and occasionally sipping its contents while she waited for everything to make some sense.

The sound of the door opening made her look back to see who it was.

"Good morning, Harry." - The black haired Auror seemed jubilant. Happy as she had not seen him in years. She sighed, Hermione hated having to crush his good mood, but Harry had to know what they were dealing with. For a moment she wondered what could have caused the incredible smile on his lips, but most pressing concerns pushed the issue to the background of her mind.

"Good morning Hermione. You look exhausted. Are you okay?"

His friend had her wild hair escaping right and left from the battered ponytail, dark circles under the worried gaze and wrinkled clothes. None of which was normal in her.

Harry poured himself a cup of coffee and sipped at it, looking worriedly at Mione over the rim of the mug.

"No, I guess I´m not. I haven´t slept in two days." – She waved his hand dismissively, and took another sip of her own cup, before dropping the bomb- "I have discovered what had been of Malfoy."

Immediately the atmosphere thickened in advance.

Harry sat on the mattress across the one Hermione occupied. Auror instincts alert. It seemed that, at last, they were going to progress in this mad research.

Mione took the diary from her bag and put it in his hands. The worn red skin was soft to the touch, the gold lettering clearly visible.

"The Diary of Godric Gryffindor?" – Harry looked at his friend questioningly.

"Yes. MacGonagal sent it yesterday. It contains valuable information ... about the Dementors." –

Harry frowned, puzzled.

"What has Malfoy to do with the Dementors?"

"Unfortunately, enough." - Carefully she put the cup on the floor. Suddenly she wasn´t thirsty anymore. – "The white dementor you told me about, remember?"

Harrys nod was almost imperceptible.

"Yes, I remember." - _"Yes, I remember the feel of his skin and the taste of his lips. The tenderness of his gestures, and the perfect expanse of his belly."_

"The white dementor is Malfoy."

For a moment he couldn´t catch his breath.

"Are you sure?" - At a basic and quite distant level, he knew his voice had sounded pretty quiet, and wondered how that could be even possible.

"Unfortunately, yes."

The following words of Hermione, explaining how she had learned the story of the Dementors, the implications of all this ... were like ice being poured into his stomach, accompanied by nails and fragments of broken glass. Luckily the chill left him insensitive to it. There was no pain, that would come later.

He felt numb, disconnected. He, still, could not assimilate what he was hearing.

Harry raised his hand to silence his friend.

"Hermione, stop." -His voice monotonous.

"Harry?" – He looked pale. Suddenly his best friends gaze, send cold chills down her back.

"I have to go." –Harry´s voice sounded dead, and he didn´t even look at her, as he rose and went to the door.

Hermione opened her mouth to ask ... but closed it without saying anything. There was something about the dark haired man that called to let him go, a thinly veiled warning.

When finally the door closed behind him, the soft thud reminded her of a coffin lid being closed.

_"What has just happened?"_

* * *

He was sitting on the pile of mattresses that served as his bed still scrambled by the passionate sex of last night. Looking towards the door, half hoping, half dreading the arrival of Harry.

Draco was terrified.

He had looked at all possible ways of telling the truth, and every one of them sounded horrible.

"Yes, of course it's going to sound horrible. I've been lying for weeks. How else could it sound?" –He thought sardonically, trying to give himself courage. – "But Harry has a good heart, surely, surely, if I explain he'll understand."

Harry was the epitome of the light by definition, right? He refused to think of any other outcome. If he did, he would not be able to speak.

Draco took the note from his pocket and read it again, eagerly. He had already lost count of how many times he had done this, memorizing the words, savouring them in his lips.

"I wish you were already here." - Sighed and refolded the note, putting the paper again in his pocket.

Suddenly, as called by his words, the door opened with a rusty groan and Harry appeared in the frame.

"Harry!" – He couldn´t help the little scream, half joy, half surprise, that escaped his throat. Draco got up quickly, and took a couple of steps toward the auror.

But almost instantly a feeling that something was wrong shook his thin frame.

He paused.

The Auror wasn´t responding, he couldn´t see his face in the dark of the hallway. Didn´t know what was happening, but something was terribly wrong.

"Harry?" - The question sounded pathetically weak even to his ears.

Finally the black haired man entered a few steps inside the store, enough so the light of the torches touched his face. An impassive mask of cold, the only alive thing in it, the green embers of his eyes that seemed to burn with a frosted flame.

"Viely." - The voice was sweet, kind, a moment later, a smile on his lips, and just a second later his arms outstretched to receive him, as if the brief image of statue had only been a momentary illusion.

Draco threw himself into the embrace. He didn´t want to see the tension in his muscles, the slight tightness of the smile, the almost invisible flame still hidden deep in the green. At that moment he just wanted to erase the chilling image from his mind.

He pressed his body to the broad chest, inhaling the pleasant smell of skin, soap and the shampoo with which the auror had showered that morning. Looking for the warmth and comfort that Harry always seemed to offer with his mere presence. But ... he felt cold.

"Harry?" - Looked up.

His hands, that had been ascending from Draco´s back to stroke his neck through the fabric of the hood... pulled.

The fabric slid of his head without resistance, and fell to his back. White blond hair brushed his so very thin shoulders.

"Malfoy."

Harry didn´t know what he had been expecting. A part of him still did not quite believe that the small dementor was Draco Malfoy. The ice layer around his heart was starting to break, and the pain under the shock was beginning to leak out.

Draco felt his heart would stop here and now, but mysteriously it continued beating.

For a moment everything seemed frozen, static, in a second of growing horror, until the silence stretched so much the air itself seemed a breath from breaking.

"You've been lying to me." - The harsh words broke the spell of immobility, and the world started turning again at breakneck speed. This couldn´t be happening.

The mask was back and this time the icy flame in Harris eyes could rival the Avada Kedavra.

Draco felt his heart gave a lurch and his breathing hitch.

"Did you think you could use me to escape Azkaban?" - The cold, calm question, was even more terrifying than if it had been shouted.

"I ... I just ... "– his heart gave another lurch, and Draco had to hug himself to avoid bending in pain.

Harry's hand closed around his jaw forcing him to hold his gaze.

"Answer me!"

The green eyes were poisoning. His heart tore a little, and Draco tightened the grip around his ribs, trying to keep it whole. Held the horrible stare as best he could, but it was like being forced to swallow cyanide.

"I just wanted out. - His voice cracked so very delicately. – You don´t know how it´s to live here, this place is hell, Harry ..." -pleaded with his eyes. The increased pressure in his jaw shut him painfully.

This time the words were a dangerous hiss.

"Do not ever call me by my name Malfoy, you and I have never been friends."

Draco nodded weakly, eyes glassy with tears he dared not pour. His heart was breaking under his fingers.

"You're a Death Eater, a slag, and you deserve to rot in a cell for all the damage you have done to others."

 _"Hatred is green."_ The blond thought. Saw it in the cold glow of Harris eyes. His legs buckled and he did not understand how it was that he was still conscious, despite the unbearable and horrible pain in his chest. He could well envision the bleeding and torn edges of the hole where his heart should have been, a space now occupied by a few patches of battered and barely alive membrane.

"I ... I´m innocent." - Just whispered, tearfully.

"Do not make me laugh." - The voice impassive, frozen, authoritarian.

Draco had not even realized when the auror had took it out, but now he could feel the tip of the wand pressing at his throat.

"Walk."

"…Where?" – It was like dying inside.

"To your cell."

Tears rolled down his ashen cheeks.

The path to his former cell was a nightmare of grief. Harry's presence behind him, the carnage in his chest, tears in his eyes, the sound of their footsteps on the cold stone floor.

The small and depressing space had not changed at all. The door opened like welcoming Draco, and Harry had to give him a little push to make him take the final step. He fell to his knees, his legs finally giving in to the desire to collapse. His hands closed around the bars.

Harry had already turned away, but...

 _"Surely ... surely this is the last time I will see him."_ The words were stuck in his throat, wanting out. _"If this will be the last time ... then, then ..."_

"I love you." - The little voice, sad, broken, lost, made Harry stop for a moment.

"Harry ... I ... I'm in love with you."

"I told you not to call me by my name." - That was the only answer. He did not even turn and look at him, just left.

_"It's so cold."_

And then, darkness.

**It will continue.**


	13. Vertigo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even if Harry dosen´t know it, he really does love Draco.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Review, please? (puppy like eyes)

**Dementor Kiss**

**Chapter 13 – Vertigo**

_Harry had already turned away, but..._

_"Surely ... surely this is the last time I will see him."_ _The words were stuck in his throat, wanting out._ _"If this will be the last time ... then, then ..."_

_"I love you." - The little voice, sad, broken, lost, made Harry stop for a moment._

_"Harry ... I ... I'm in love with you."_

_"I told you not to call me by my name." - That was the only answer. He did not even turn and look at him, just left._

_"It's so cold."_

_And then, darkness._

* * *

He felt cold.

Not something uncommon in Azkaban´s environment, where the temperature was so low, but... this felt like so much more than that; An unpleasant feeling in his gut that turned blue his lips, a chill inside his very bones… as if Hermione, with her words, had made him swallow liquid nitrogen, sip by sip, until he couldn´t take a drop more.

Everything inside had turned cold and hard. Unfeeling. His lungs, his stomach... his heart. Specially his heart.

He couldn´t feel anything.

Since leaving the guards room nothing had seemed able to pierce the ice that surrounded him. Only seeing Draco's face had penetrated, for a moment, the cold surface, and the pain had been like being gouged with a knife. Immediately, anger had emerged as an instinctive reaction, and the gap in the frozen wall had been covered by the icy flame of hate.

After that, the utter contempt lined barrier had been the only real thing. Everything else seemed too distant, inconsistent, and utterly unable to touch him. At some point, Harry had the notion of thinking he didn´t want to return to the guards room, and instead, had somehow ended up here, in the tiny Owlery of Azkaban.

A small round room, lined by a couple of shabby windows, from which the poor light of the cloudy day, filtered, and touched the dirty and covered with straw floor. In the dozen old and rusty hangers stuck to the walls, the owls stared at him with wide eyes; Hedwigh, Archimedes, and a couple more, one of which seemed as old and sickly as the room itself.

His white friend glared at him, leaving clear what she thought of the depressing space. Hedwigh hated living in places as dirty and small as this, and Harry knew it well.

"I'm so sorry Hedwigh, but you'll have to wait a little longer." – The auror muttered, leaning against the door. So very bone tired…

Everything here looked quiet, old, sad... like Draco.

"What ... has just happened?" – Harry felt his body sliding down the wood of the gate, until he found himself  sitting on the floor. It was like he had been sleepwalking, and was now waking up… His body felt heavy, his mind sluggish, his hands trembled sprawled in the floor.

Slowly, what had happened was really beginning to enter his awareness. The ice produced by the shock, starting to melt.

A pang of pain blossomed in his chest, shaking all his body, like being struck. And Harry folded up his legs, embracing them with his arms, so he could rest his forehead on them. Protecting himself, however he could, from every new lacerating memory that was cropping up, one after another inside his mind.

Hermione's voice ...

_"The dementor's curse is the origin of the Dementors."_

_"... Reserved only for the darkest and most corrupt criminals..."_

_"... Forever trapped in a living hell ..."_

_"The white dementor is Malfoy."_

"It can´t be."

The auror hugged his knees tighter, fingers digging into the flesh of his thighs. Blood trickled from the corner of his lip, where he had bitten to avoid giving voice to the agony. His heart pounded in a mad suicide race, every beat becoming a new lash of agony. The ice melting faster and faster, his freezing protection falling apart, forcing him to remember.

_"The white fabric of the hood slipping, falling, releasing hair as bright as silver. Light eyes, surrounded by delicate, mauve, dark circles. So large, so sad…"_

"Malfoy."

The feeling of having been used.

He made a strangled sound of pain.

The notion of having been deceived.

He shivered as if he had been trampled.

The instant when he finally reached the realization that it was all a lie, that ... that every word, every gesture, every kiss, probably only had been just a way to escape devised by Malfoy... that the blond actually... didn´t love him...

Tears began to escape from between his lashes, trails that burned like acid.

But there had been more. Where it not? The memories seemed somewhat hazy.

_"I just wanted out. - His voice broken – You don´t know how's life here. This place is hell, Harry ...-the pleading in his eyes ..."_

_"... I´m innocent. - The words barely perceivable through his tears."_ _The voice broken, sad, shattered, lost…: 'Harry ... I'm in love with you."_

He cursed silently. Cursed because in spite of everything, he, still, desperately wanted to believe in those words.

Cursed his stupidity for falling in love with Malfoy of all people, cursed himself for not being able to forget that night, for wanting Draco still, because even after all the shit, deep down, he wanted to believe that the person he had met, the person he loved beyond logical reason, had to exist. Harry wished there was a way to keep the blond ... An idea flashed through his mind. Poorly defined, more a desperate desire than anything else. But the more he thought about it, the further it attracted him. He knew it was crazy. But when some craziness had ever stopped him before?

A sad little smile appeared on his lips.

"I should be used to fate wanting to fuck me. - thought half ironically. - But for once in my life, I have the right to want something just for me."

Harry broke the embrace on his knees, and took a deep calming breath. - "Draco Malfoy may not be exactly the best person in the world, but apparently he **is** the only one able to make me feel alive. And damn if I'm going to give it up!" -The brightness returned to the green gaze, with the same brilliant and powerful presence of lightning.

Looking up he realized that Hedwigh has descended beside him, looking at her master worriedly. The auror stroked the soft feathers of her head.

"I'm fine girl, you do not have to worry about me."- Not anymore.

Harry stood up, and wiped the blood from his lips with a hand wave and a whisper of magic.

_"You don´t know what´s coming for you Malfoy."_

With a wave of his wild red coat, the Auror left the room.

* * *

(Hermione)

After Harry was gone, she had been left with a very uneasy feeling. And for a while had debated whether she should try and go talk to him, but finally decided waiting was the best option. Give it a few minutes for Harry to calm down, before trying to tackle the issue. But… at some point in those minutes, the sleep she had been previously awaiting, had come unexpected, and caught her, finally making Hermione take the much needed nap. Her body half lying on the pallet, thrown on the floor.

The sound of the door closing woke her.

"... Harry?" - The exhaustion had turned her arms and legs to butter. Mione yawned, and had to make a real effort of will to just sit in the mattress and look at her friend.

Harry had just entered the room, all heavy steps, wildly disheveled hair and firm set jaw. The state of his clothes, just as hers, was a poor cross between wrinkled and sleeped in, that seemed to say neither of them had had a good day. Even if his auror coat looked even worse, invaded as it was by straw.

But the look, rather than make him into some dirty and shabby man, gave him an indefinable aura of unpredictable danger.

But what really finished waking her, was the determination printed on his face. The green glow of her friend's eyes was infused by a new intensity, a ravenous flame, that seemed shaded by a sense of pride she hadn´t watched since the end of the war.

"Did something happen?" - Was the first thing that came to her lips.

Harry offered his hand helping Hermione to her feet. "Only that I caught Malfoy. He´s in his cell." - The tone was cold, and not quite indifferent. A deception attempt. But Mione knew him too well for it to deceive her. Something, something very intense had happened to his best friend. And it made her frown. Because… what had it to do with Malfoy?

"That's good, we can interrogate him and get the case over with. But Harry ... you're hiding something. What happened to you? You look ... you ... – Mione sought the right words without finding them. - Well, you don´t look yourself.

"There´s nothing to worry about. Let me take my own decisions, -Hermione frowned- just… don´t pry okay? – The male auror looked at her defiant. There was something he wanted with a desire so intense, with a longing so great, that if he had to fight to get it, he would do it against anyone, even his friends. Although he hoped to make them understand, before something like that was necessary.

Just, not now.

Hermione saw something in her best friend… She didn´t know what exactly, but the message was pretty clear: _Leave me be._ She sighed, and decided not to press for now, they had a prisoner to deal with first. But when they were finished, it would be time to talk with her best friend, know what had happened to him, and decide if he needed help, or no.

But not now, they had priorities to attend to. "All right. – She resigned herself for now-but take care, okay?"

Harry smiled his typical big not quite bright, smile.

"Don´t worry. - _"I've already taken all the damage I could_." - ... What are you doing?"

Hermione finished revolving in her backpack and pulled out a small glass bottle, filled with a very translucent liquid, like water.

Verisaterum.

"You said Malfoy´s caught, No? Let's finish this already." - Hands on hips, hair in all directions, she looked like a real lioness hunting for prey.

_"Gryffindor through and thrown, e?"_

He couldn´t help smiling.

"Come then."

* * *

The prisoners in this section seemed more scared than usual.

Those who still had some remnant of will, had sought refuge in the far corners of their cells, as far away from the bars as they could. Like trying to hide from someone, or something.

"I don´t like this." – Harry said in a low whisper. Raising his wand defensively, while still advancing shoulder to shoulder with his friend.

"Me neither." - Hermione muttered. There was an unnatural chill in the air, an oppressive feeling, a darkness too deep lurking in the shadows. What had caused this?

"The Dementor Lord."-Harry hissed.

"What…?"

"The Dementor Lord. He has been here. Don´t you feel it? The wrongness? The weight in the air, the cold, the lack of light? This is what he causes wherever he goes."- Latent hatred lacing his voice.

Hermione wondered why Harry seemed to have so much animosity against the Lord, but didn´t ask. "So he´s here?" - She was curious to see the creature the traitor son of Godric Gryffindor had twisted into. But maybe not so much as to actually seek him.

"No. I don´t think he´s near. The effect seems to be fading; it doesn't feel half as strong as it should, had he been in the vicinity." - The Dementor Lord here, so close to Malfoy's cell ... What had the monster been looking for? Harry remembered all too well the golden needles, the cuts, the bruises. Cries, wounds, blood, tears… His blood felt like molten lava. He couldn´t define the exact feeling? Hate? Fear? Jealousy?

 _"Maybe a little of all three. What I do know, is that if he has touched Malfoy, he´s going to want being able to die."_ – The dialogue emerging as a furious internal parssel hiss.

The closer they came to Draco´s cell, the worst the state of the prisoners was. Just a few meters from the place, their reaction had gotten so bad, that more than one had pissed himself in terror.

The two aurors moved like silent shadows, carefully examining their surroundings, spells on their lips, muscles tense in anticipation. Looked at each end of the hall, but there wasn´t a trace of the dark lord. After ascertaining that there was no danger, finally they arrived at the cubicle...

The door was open, and the tiny sad space, empty.

Harry felt something squeeze his heart.

"Harry look at this." - On the stone floor, just a few scattered drops of blood gleamed in the dark. – "Were he hurt when you brought him in?" - The blood seemed fresh, just starting to blacken in the dryness of coagulation. Harry delayed one moment, needing the time to actually take a breath. "No, he was fine." – He couldn´t remember exactly how Draco was brought here, but had the notion of not having touched him. It seemed impossible that he had resorted to physical violence, against someone for whom he felt something so strong.

Which meant that, either the blood was from someone else, (something very unlikely) or someone had hurt Draco. He remembered the last time he had seen blood in Draco. Needles... The ground seemed to vibrate for a second.

"Harry?"- Hermione looked at him bewildered. It had been years since she saw Harry lose control like that, on his magic.

"Hermione ..." - hissed through clenched teeth.

Suddenly, the sound of approaching cut the moment, with the knowledge that someone was advancing towards them. Immediately the two aurors took in a combat stance, just as a slight figure cut out from the shadows.

The torches lit Pansy´s black hair, her worn and dirty gray dress, her pale, panicked, determined face. Parkinson moved against the wall, clutching at the stone in search of something to sustain her from falling to the floor, limping, exhausted, but not giving up. As if her life depended on it. She staggered at seeing them, strength failing her frail looking body, and finally collapsed just feet's from the aurors.

They approached carefully, alert to any trick.

"Parkinson? Pansy Parkinson? - Hermione hadn´t even been aware, of the presence of the other woman in Azkaban. She didn´t think her school fellow would have been sentenced so harshly, even if she knew Parkinson was marked.

"Granger ..." – The woman seemed about to fall unconscious. Both Aurors recognized the effects of a prolonged cruciatus. Muscle contractions, ashen pallor, and unfocused gaze. Her short black hair didn´t really disguise, the swelling that was taking place on her forehead.

It was amazing that she was still conscious. Pansy´s eyelids fluttered spasmodically, she should have been knocked out, but seemed to be staying awake by pure strength of will, totally desperate to say something. But she didn´t have enough breath.

"Calm down, take some air." - Hermione said kindly.

"You ... have ... to ... help ... help him."- Coughed. Little, calloused hands gripped the blouse of Mione, trying to stay awake, to take her as an anchor.

"Who needs help?" - Asked Harry, hurriedly. He had a very bad feeling, that grew second to second.

"D ... Draco. Tomas has ... taken. Pl ... Please." – Pansy´s voice broke in a sharp note of urgency, supplication. The Auror realized she was about to lose it.

"Where?" - Asked immediately. Parkinson seemed unable to hear, or powerless to speak. – "Where has Tomas, taken him?" – Harry crouched in front of the hurt woman, forcing her to look at him. -"Answer dammit!"

"A ... to ... - closed her eyelids finally - to ... his ... room. - Muttered. Her body went limp, half collapsed over Hermione though still barely conscious.

"Kreacher!" - The old elf appeared instantly at the invocation of his master. – "Take her to the guard´s room; watch her, care for her, and don´t leave her side regardless of anyone else trying to make you go." - Harry didn´t wait to see his orders fulfilled. Hermione stood with him.

No doubt in them about who had been responsible for the curse thrown at Parkinson. Neither came to hear the last words of Pansy.

"Ron ... you ... need ... care ... cr ... R.. N ..."

* * *

The room was tiny. It barely contained a few old painted furniture pieces; A closet, a table in a corner, a chair, and the bed.

Everything else was bare stone walls without windows, and some photos here and there, that talked about the days when he had a family, and a future.

But the cheerful man who was in them had long since died, overcome by anger, rage and hatred. Now what was left of him, lived to take revenge. Only when in the middle of punishing the one he saw as culprit, he felt alive, in a perverse, dark, yes, but intense way. It was what he wanted. He didn´t need anything else.

But tonight was the last time Tomas would be able to indulge in the sweet sensation. The Dementor Lord had made it clear:

_"I'll give him to you, just for tonight. Break him, shatter him, make sure he loses all hope. But remember; he belongs to me."_

The guard knew the dark Lord hated sharing. This prize was probably only a punishment for Malfoy, and nothing else. But Thomas would seize every moment of it. He went to the bed.

Draco hadn´t yet ceased to sob.

Harry´s rejection had hurt more than anything he had ever experienced. The torture, rape... nothing had ever hurt as much as this. It was as if someone had ripped out his heart and soul, and left the shell, broken and bleeding of his body, to be habited by a sad and wrecked conscience.

The hatred Draco had seen in those green eyes, had broken him inside. And he no longer had the strength to do nothing but cry.

Every drop that slid down his cheeks was a drop of blood in his heart. A little reminder of what was lost. A small demonstration that he was, still, alive. While he breathed, he could never forget Harry, while some life remained in him, he could never stop loving the auror. So while he continued in this world, he could never stop mourning what was lost. He didn´t even resist when the Dementor Lord offered him to Tomas and had been driven into his arms, limp as a doll. Only the tears had shown he was still conscious. When they reached the guard room, and Tomas placed him on the bed to undress his trembling body, he accepted it, sobbing.

Now he knew for sure that he was never going to get out of this hell.

Harry had become the center of his world, and at leaving had left him with nothing to hold into. All that was left of Draco´s will, had collapsed at his words:

_"You're a Death Eater, a scum, and you deserve to rot in a cell for all the damage you have done to others."_

For seven years he had sustained his strength in his innocence. He had not killed anyone, had not participated in the war. Was innocent! But he really was? Could someone who was hated so deeply by him, really be innocent? He did not know.

Perhaps the mere fact that he accepted the Dark Mark, made him guilty. His father had been a monster, and he had known, but had not said anything. How much could have been saved if he had spoken? Perhaps he had not killed anyone directly, but had let dozens be slaughtered by Lucius without lifting a finger. He felt disgusted with himself. For the first time, he felt he deserved all this pain.

Draco closed his eyes as more tears slid from them, and ended soaking the pillow on either side of his face.

Suddenly Tomas mouth took his, square teeth nibbling at his lower lip. When it became obvious the blond would not resist the assault, a tongue slid inside, looking for the wet cavity of Draco's mouth. Inert, he let his saliva mix with the guards. Every touch reminded him of Harry, of his kisses, that were not at all like this, the auror lips were warm and sensual, and made him feel loved and wanted. All the opposite of the freezing cold, that was causing Tomas. He felt used, disgusted, nauseated, and the worst was that he felt he deserved it.

It hurt.

His soul hurt.

Frustrated by his passivity and lack of response, Tomas twisted one pink nipple between his fingers, but it was like trying to breathe life into a porcelain statue. Draco seemed frozen.

The only sign that his soul was still there, were the tears that hadn´t ceased to drip.

"It seems that, in the end, we managed to break you? E?" - The fetid breath in his ear was painful only because it came accompanied by the memory of a deep, warm voice, full of passion.

The guard smiled.

"It seems is time to completely break you. Don´t you think? - The sound of a zipper being opened… Draco closed his eyes, unable to take it.

 _"Harry."_ He dared not ask for help, not even in his thoughts.

Calloused hands on his thighs, separating them, a positioning body over his, an unwanted weight on him, crushing him, sinking him into the mattress.

"That's it Malfoy, take it, you know you deserve this." - Tomas's voice leaked lust and venom.

He sobbed weakly.

Draco felt Toma´s cock touch his entrance and wanted to die here and now. He couldn´t take this, he couldn´t. Not after experiencing what was making love. He was going to break…

"Harry ..."- He sobbed.

The guard's fingers dug into his hips holding him in place...

And the world exploded.

The ground shuddered as if shaken by an earthquake, the cabinet fell and splintered on the floor, the table and chair were crushed by an invisible force. The photos shattered. A wave of murderous magic swept the room; crushing, slashing, destroying everything. And the bed seemed to be the eye of the hurricane. The sheets flapped in chaos like wild beasts. He heard Tomas scream, as his weight was suddenly and brutally ripped off him.

Draco opened his eyes.

A god with avada like eyes had entered the room. A God who had claimed his soul and heart.

Harry.

The magic surrounded him, obeyed him, came from him. Flamed in his wild black hair, undulated in his blood red coat, and reflected in the murderous glow of his eyes. His power was immense, oppressive, savage.

Harry was powerful enough to take the very air from his lungs.

Draco felt his heart stutter.

Harry had taken Tomas by the throat, suspending him in the air as if the guard weighed nothing. Squeezing his neck, as he watched with great satisfaction, how the guard struggled to breathe. Potter looked like a vengeful deity just taking payment for crimes committed.

Draco could not help the little, desperate, sound, that escaped his lips. Like a plea, like a pray.

"Harry…"- He needed ... it was so ... so painful to be hated by him ...

Harry glanced at him, alerted by his voice.

Tomas's body slipped from his hand onto the floor. And before Draco could realize what was happening, his lips were being taken, his body trapped under a much more loved one. The magic roaring around them like a victorious shout.

_"Harry ... I love you."_

**Continue.**


	14. Tears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the end Harry loves Draco so much.

**Dementor Kiss**

**Chapter 14 - Tears.**

_Draco could not help the little, desperate, sound, that escaped his lips. Like a plea, like a pray._

_"Harry…"- He needed ... it was so ... so painful to be hated by him ..._

_Harry glanced at him, alerted by his voice._

_Tomas's body slipped from his hand onto the floor. And before Draco could realize what was happening, his lips were being taken, his body trapped under a much more loved one. The magic roaring around them like a victorious shout._

_"Harry ... I love you."_

* * *

Harry covered Draco with his body, devouring his mouth; licking every corner, stroking tongue against tongue. Calming and seducing, urging the submission of his blond counterpart. Needing, wanting, to own, brand, the slytherin as his. Make his mind forget the world itself, become his only desire, erase all signs of Tomas from the pale skin and cunning mind, until the only thing left to feel was Harry itself.

Draco moaned and sobbed beneath him, his body loose and fallen into the mattress as if he didn´t have strength left to move; the pliant softness of one falling in shock.

Harry didn´t notice. At the time his mind was a chaotic swirl overcome by the yearning of his magic, pulling at him with the force of a hurricane, and the primal need of protecting and possessing what was so much loved.

The auror felt his magic search for that of Draco´s. Attempt to caress it, like he would have attempted to caress a lover. Just with more calling and tries to make the other respond. But Draco´s magic was like mist, shy and elusive, impossible to attain. The total counterpart of his host, that shivered in Harrys embrace and parted his thighs to allow the fall of the griffindors hips between them, until their bodies melted one against the other; Chest to chest, hips to hips, in a long sensual touch that ripped twin guttural moans from their throats.

And it was at that perfect instant, in a second like a flash, when the auror recalled one of the first lessons from auror training; The magic of a wizard speaks of him more sincerely than any word. The magic of a wizard soaks in his soul, and takes on, the characteristics of the one to whom it belongs.

That´s why the magical signature of each witch and wizard is different from any other. That´s what makes their magic part of their very essence.

With the notion, other thought managed to cross his mind, entering the heart of the storm that surrounded them like a stray bird that´s lost in too much wind. - _"If I come into contact with Dracos magic, I would know for sure how much of Viely is real. How far I can trust my feelings. And maybe ..."-_ Maybe discern if Draco felt the same.

Suddenly, his desire and the one his magic had been feeding his senses, converged into a perfect, focused, intent; Reaching Draco, touching the foundation of his magical essence.

His own wild magic began to calm and flam in a different way. Stopped sweeping the room, and began to float as a barrier that separated the world from them. Just as the auror began kissing the curve of the moon pale collar, and felt the shudder of pure pleasure that ran through Draco in a delicate tremor. When he drawled his magic to surround his will be lover, like a warm blanket and shield. Wrapping, cuddling, soothing, urging the surrender, and asking for submission.

Draco sighed in pleasure, felling protected, warm, the cold a little less biting with Harry's magic as cover. Little by little he began to drift in the sensation…. when suddenly the "blanket" pressed gently, trying to get in touch with what wasn´t his to have.

The second Draco felt what the auror was trying to do ... one broken surprised sob escaped his throat. _"No way... Harry wouldn´t do that to me. Him ..."_ His eyes searched for green ones through tears not yet dry, unable to comprehend what the man he loved was trying to do. But when Harry looked at him unfazed, possessed by the desire to make contact...

"No!" - He twisted, desperately trying to flee from the tight wrapping of arms around his body, trapping him against the broad chest of Potter.

"Shhh"- Draco felt Harry whisper against his hair- "Just want to touch you." – A kiss was tenderly deposited in his temple. – "It will only be a moment, I will not hurt you. I promise"

The promise only managed to make him feel betrayed.

"No, no. Nonononono ... Harry ... enough…stop" - Shaking like a leaf with his face against the soft coat, tears began to wet the crimson cloth as he tried to make the auror understand how terrified he felt. How not being able to stop him was making his heart leap in panic.

Because even if Draco loved him. Loved him so much that if the auror had asked for his body, he wouldn´t have, couldn´t have, cared, to give in to him. Even knowing he wasn´t loved back. If Harry had asked for Draco to be his…bitch. - The thought felt like dirt. – He would have taken it. He could have done it and be happy about having that much of Harry. Wouldn´t have been the first time he was used that same way, and at least this time he would have been in the arms of the one he loved. But his magic no. His magic was not something he could gift with so little care. His magical core was all Draco had left pure, all that he had been able to attain for himself. And he couldn´t let Harry touch it. Not this way.

Not in the wake of so much anger.

It felt wrong in all kind of levels.

So he made his magic fled further inside, hiding from Harry.

But the stubborn griffindor wasn´t giving up.

He had to know.

So he pressed harder, trying to enter it, to grasp the heart of mist just beyond reach. Malfoy strained to resist, escape his embrace, put physical distance between them. But he was weak and exhausted, nearly in shock, and Harry had no trouble retaining him inside his grip, whispering reassuring words as he surged stronger and stronger against barriers long gone in barely patched walls. Finally Draco´s natural magical resistance broke, and Harry's magic managed to get into his body.

"Ple... please ... no ..." – Malfoy sobbed weakly against his chest, fresh tears in his already moist eyes, broken, pleading. Trembling as if frozen under his calming back rubs.

Harry didn´t understand. Why was Draco putting up so much resistance? How could it look like he was hurting him more than the attempted rape he had just suffered, when he had been so good, and look fine, with his kisses and caresses? This shouldn't hurt. So why react so strongly? He didn´t mean any harm, but Draco didn´t seem to know what was happening. He looked so scared...

"Don´t cry."- Harry whispered in the fair, nearly white, hair. – "I just want to touch you, nothing else, I promise Draco." – It felt pleasantly warmth to pronounce his name. "Believe me." – And continued stroking his back reassuringly, while pushing a little more.

" ... Ung ..." -Draco stiffened and gasped, trying to stop it. The old griffindor could feel his resistance clearly, but he was much more powerful. If the auror had wanted it, he could have shot down easily, grab the core and end the painful looking struggle. But he didn´t want to hurt him, not even by accident. Just needed a touch, nothing more.

Draco made a last attempt to break free, but the auror continued grasping him against his chest without mercy, whispering words that tried to be reassuring but weren't.

Finally his magic broke the last barrier and touched the hearth hidden in the depths of Draco... and the blond man… collapsed completely in his arms, weeping, with no strength left for anything else.

Lukewarm.

Draco's magic was lukewarm. That was the first thing Harry felt. Like a cup of tea that has been left to cool, but still retains the incredible aroma and subtle flavor. It was crystalline, pure light, like Harry. But where he was golden sun, Draco was silver moonlight. Fragile delicacy, against vibrant strength.

There wasn´t darkness in his deeps, only sadness, an immense sadness that spoke of loneliness and resignation. And a love that warmed, gently, the broken edges of the fragile essence.

Harry felt his breath catch as the heart of Draco tentatively returned the caress. Sad, broken, as if just the motion hurt, but there was no mistaking the tiny glow in it.

 _"Draco ... loves me?"_ \- Someone with an essence so pure treasured him. The surprise and happiness made Harry smile and try to hug the so pure magic heart.

But when he tried to feel it more deeply something stopped him, another essence, another presence that felt like chains, dark, cold, around Draco's core. They were tied with pain, agony and suffering, a sorrow so intense that it threatened to choke the pure flame of spirit.

When he tried to reach the captured magic, the chains contracted painfully tearing a cry from Draco's throat. A sound full of pain bereft of words, that made Harry withdrew. _"What was that?"_ "Draco?"

Head thrown back, eyes closed, body limp; Draco had fallen unconscious.

**oOo**

Hermione took a couple of steps into the room now that the magic wave had dissolved back into Harry, dodging a few pieces of what had been the closet, crystals and broken photo frames, finally coming to find Tomas still lying on the floor. A quick glance assured her that he was still alive. So she took his wand and threw a stupefy his way, just to make sure he stayed down for the time being.

Once satisfied, she looked to the bed… just in time to catch full picture of what lied in it.

She knew something had been wrong with her friend, but this was more than she had thought possible. Shocked, she watched Harry cuddle someone that could only be Malfoy.

If she hadn´t been looking at it right now, she never would have believed his best friend capable of employing so much tenderness in handling Draco Malfoy.

But there it was.

She hadn´t been able to see much until now, the magic that had prevented her from entering the room had dimed everything inside its barriers, but what she was glimpsing now was enough to make some sense of the recent attitude of Harry.

For a moment she nearly got angry. Why didn´t Harry say anything earlier? But she realized this wasn´t the time to start an argument. Wasn´t even sure about what was happening. So Mione decided to give her friend the benefit of the doubt… for now. They were going to have a serious conversation the instant they had Tomas secured.

She stopped beside the bed.

"Harry?"

Her friend looked up.

"Hermione?"

She froze. The look in those green eyes she loved like they were the ones of a brother, she had seen enough times before, to recognize now: Love.

For years she had wanted to see her best friend happily in love with a girl, especially since he gave up in searching for one himself.

But this was ... well, she hadn´t even though his friend might be gay.

"Harry ..." – Mione started, not knowing how to take it. – "Care to explain what's going on?"

The Auror looked at the inert figure in his arms. Only then Mione really noticed Malfoy.

Throughout the investigation had never arisen the notion of how could have the stay in Azkaban changed the old slytherin. Even when she discovered he was becoming a dementor, she didn´t really think about it.

That´s why the impact now was even greater than it could have been, had she been prepared.

"O God."- She whispered.

It seemed as though Malfoy had not grown an inch since the last time they saw each other during their sixth year at Hogwarts. He couldn´t be taller than Harry's shoulder line now, if anything, what he had done, was lose bulk. His long, thin bones could clearly be outlined under the too pale skin. Malfoy was so thin she knew he had to be sick.

The pale skin that should have been a perfect expansion of whiteness, but instead looked ashen, speaking of malnutrition and too long not seen sun. But what really shocked the female auror were the scars. If you didn´t look for them, they were white enough to pass unnoticed, but once noticed, they were clearly there; Signs of torture.

 _"But torturing prisoners is forbidden."_ –Hermione looked at Tomas´s unconscious form. The realization of what he had done flooding her mind. _–"He was supposed to be a guard, should dispense justice. Was responsible for the welfare of the prisoners under his care!"-_ The unfathomable dislike she always felt for the ones who dared to corrupt justice, unfolded inside her breast much like liquid fire. It was the work of people like him, that so many wizards and witches, did not trust the ministry and their justice system even now.

Silently she vowed to see Tomas judged for his crimes.

At the same time his mind kept recalling the original beauty of the young Slytherin, from witch only his hair, so blond and shiny as the mane of a unicorn, was left.

And then, Harry turned to her, and she could see Malfoy´s face.

Rose thin lips like, delicately crisscrossed by tear trails sunken cheeks, like violet watercolor dark circles washed under long, almost white, lashes, completed the misery picture of fragileness, delicacy, and sadness so broken as to seem impossible to mend...

Hermione felt her heart shrink.

"That´s Malfoy?" - Whispered softly, almost afraid of waking him. She felt the sudden desire to hug the man against her chest and comfort him until the tears dried completely. But didn´t act upon it.

"Yes, he is. I will tell you what happened, just give me a moment to dress him." -

That was when Mione realized that under the shelter of Harry's body, Draco wore nothing. She quickly turned away, not wanting to see any more than necessary.

"I'll tie Tomas." - She returned to where the guard remained unconscious.

Harry looked around for the white robe, but it was nowhere to be seen. Until finally he saw what looked like gray cloth hanging over the edge of the bed. He picked it up thinking maybe the robe was under, but immediately recognized the immense soft touch under his fingers; It was Draco's robe.

 _"It has become gray"_ – The auror didn´t know why, but seeing it´s new sad color made his heart sank. And while dressing the limp body, couldn´t help but realize how unhealthy the new hue made Draco look.

Finally the slytherin was decent and in Harrys arms, and Hermione had Tomas well tied and levitating behind her.

"Let's go to the guards rooms. I think we both need to grab some breakfast."

**oOo**

Harry looked into the cup held in his hands, at the dark tea, and his reflection in it. Something to stare at, while putting his thoughts in order.

They were in the guard's room, sitting at the only table of the small chamber. Between them spread about all the wood, they had the delicious breakfast brought by Kreacher, the first decent meal they had had in weeks, and yet none Harry none Hermione seemed to find the hunger to really enjoy it. Unable to take their minds off the latest developments.

Behind them were the three people who seemed to hold the key to end the investigation and clarify everything; Draco and Pansy unconscious in the mattresses, and Tomas, also unconscious, tied to a chair.

Neither Harry nor Hermione wanted to be the first to speak, and the minutes began to stretch taut until finally it was the male aurorthe one to break the silence.

"Hermione." - He looked up from the cup. –"Hear me out before making any decision, please." - Hermione was his best friend, had always supported him, even in the most difficult situations, when not even Ron had remained at his side. If someone could understand what he felt for Draco, it had to be her.

"All right Harry, I will hear you. You know you can tell me anything." – And extended her hand over Harrys on a reassuring gesture.

He nodded.

At first slowly, then with more and more confidence and speed, the story of how he came to fall in love with Draco Malfoy, started escaping his lips almost without thinking.

The deception of Viely, his feelings, the Dementor Lords torture, the needles, the moments together, their... their first time. Although this only made out his mouth for an instant, as a catalyst for everything that came later. And at the end:

"Look Hermione, I know it sounds crazy, but I'm in love with him. And know Draco feels the same." - The look in his eyes was unmistakable. Exactly the same gaze that lit his pupils every time he launched into a suicide mission, armed only with wand and courage.

Hermione sighed.

"Harry... you love him. I get it. But how can you be sure of his feelings? He could be using you to get rid of the curse, or to scape Azkaban. Or both. I know that now he looks like the epitome of innocence."- She glanced toward the mattress where the blond lay. – "But keep in mind who he is."

Harry smiled.

"I said it already Hermione. In this, I believe."

"Harry ..." - began Mione.

"No, Hermione. I'm not mistaken in this. I checked myself."

She shook her head in exasperation.

"The only way to know for sure is if you have used verisaterum, and we both know you did not because the only bottle we brought was the one I had in my backpack."

"I didn´t have to. I only had to touch the heart of his magic."-

Hermione's eyes widened.

"Can´t believe he let you do that ... Malfoy must really love you." –The end muttered almost to herself.

Harry frowned slightly.

"Well ...it´s not like I left him any other choice."

"You... forced him? - The horror made itself something almost palpable in the words.

"It was the only way to really know." -

PAM! Miones palms hit abruptly the table.

"Harry! I can´t believe what you've done! – She was furious. Harry got up in turn, ready to defend himself.

"I don´t understand why you're like this. Weren´t you saying that I had to make sure?"

"Aren´t you aware of what you've done?! Harry, to invade the magical heart of a wizard is considered worse than rape! And for someone like Malfoy who grew up with the notion of how important his magic is... Do you realize that for him, his magic is the most important thing?"

"I ... "- He swallowed.

 _"No, no. Nonononono ... Harry ... enough."-_ The memory exploded inside his brain, displaying in total clarity the pain laced in the too wide gray eyes. He stepped back like slapped.

"O my God." - Muttered.

 _"Ple ... please ... no ..."-_ Draco's desperation now so much understandable, so sick and wrong. Harry dropped shakily into the chair, feeling like he was going to get sick.

"Hermione ... What have I done?" - Barely whispered.

Hermione became silent, but after a moment, sighed, and approached her friend, putting her little hand on his broad shoulder, unable to remain angry when it was obvious Harry was berating himself already with any help. Actually, the auror looked like he was going to vomit or start sobbing any moment now. And he was her best and most cherished friend, even if he could be lots of unaware and rash when not really meaning to.

"You didn´t knew what you were doing." – She tried to be comforting, but Harry didn´t seem to be listening.

"He tried to warn me. Begged me not to." – One of his hands came to rest on his head pulling the hair there in despair. - "God, how could I…?" - Guilt threatened to drown him. The mere thought of Draco hurt because of him, hating him, made his heart clench and his blood quiver. Didn´t even register the notion of how three weeks ago, he would have whole heartedly returned the sentiment without any care. –"…He may hate me now..." – A mere whisper, but enough for Hermione to catch.

"Did you feel it? His hate for you?"

He looked at her blankly before answering.

"No ... just sadness. Why does that matter?"

Hermione smiled reassuringly.

"Then he doesn't hate you. If he had for what you did to him, you would have felt it in his core. If the only thing you did notice was sorrow, then it´s clear he didn´t enjoy the experience, but he doesn´t hate you. Even so, I would advise some serious apologizing as soon as he´s awake. Got it?-Se poked his chest.

Harry nodded and looked at Draco, deeply asleep in the mattress. If what Hermione had said was true, Draco still loved him.

He wanted to smile with relief, but wished he could cruciate himself too. Just to actually experience some pain of his own, instead of watching it fall upon fragile, already so hurt, Draco.

In that instant Tomas shifted weakly, and opened his eyes to find himself tied to a chair.

He glared at the two Aurors, between greasy matted hair.

"Can I know why I'm tied to a chair?" – An accusation and a breath of rage.

Harry was recovered and standing the next second, feeling the anger come back to the surface in need of vengeance and physical violence. Only keeping himself in check because of Hermione's presence not two feet to his left. But it didn´t stop him from coming dangerously close to the guard, like the snake that circles his prey. In his eyes could be clearly read what bordered on homicidal revulsion. If looks could kill Tomas wouldn´t be breathing now.

"Let's see ... How about for torturing and raping a prisoner for whose wellbeing you were responsible? – His voice made it out, in an oozing poison low hiss that made Tomas shudder unwillingly.

Hermione observed Harry, ready to stop him if necessary. She didn´t think he would do anything, not really, but his magic had been pretty unpredictable lately. Wouldn´t do for her best friend to become a murderer by accident.

Harry looked over his shoulder at her, like sensing her thoughts, avada color eyes full of barely contained ire, and magic starting to charge the atmosphere like a thunderstorm… but a moment later Harry shook his head and the pressure disappeared little by little.

Mione nodded at his action, relieved she didn´t have to try stop him. If Harry really had wanted Thomas dead, he would have been, no questions asked.

"Open his mouth, it's time these scum tell us what's happening here." – Mione pulled the verisaterum from her pocket.

Tomas tried to resist, but Harry got immense satisfaction in squeezing his jaw until they could hear the bone creaking dangerously under his fingers. The exorbitant look of pain decorating the guards face, just making his hold even more joyful.

Mione deposited three crystalline drops on his tongue, and finally, only when Tomas eyes began to cloud, Harry freed him from the punishing grip letting his friend handle the rest.

After inspecting his pupils and declaring the Verisaterum in full effect, Hermione began the questioning. Harry a little behind her, watching as his friend asked, not trusting himself to handle the conversation of feared he would end up killing the man, wand or not. This monster had hurt Draco.

Bus as an auror, he would strive to make the correct thing; bring him to court. But that didn´t mean he wasn´t going to put every effort in pressuring the judge, for Tomas to be sentenced to the Dementor kiss.

"Well, let's begin. Are you ready Harry?" – Asked Hermione.

The auror nodded and waved her friend to continue.

Satisfied, Hermione turned back to the now high guard.

"What is your name?" - Asked authoritatively.

"Tomas Cleawather." – Answered in a slightly groggy voice, eyes unfocused.

Hermione nodded to herself, it seemed the potion was really in full effect. Time for some more complicated matters.

"Why did you attack Draco Malfoy?"

"Because he deserved it."

 _"Bullshit!"_ Harry hissed inwardly.

"Why do you think he deserved it?" - She continued undisturbed.

"Because he's the son of Lucius Malfoy, and a Death Eater." - Despite being under the influence of the potion, the hate that distilled his words burned not unlike acid.

Hermione frowned.

"Why do you hate him so much?" - Maybe that was the key to his madness.

"For being the son of Lucius Malfoy." - Just pronouncing his name was a curse is his lips.

"Lucius Did something to you?"- It was way too easy to see where this was heading to.

"He killed my wife and son. He doesn´t deserve to have a child." - The pain and hatred of that sentence, was enough to convince Hermione that the loss of his family had to be what had unbalanced his mind.

Harry could no longer remain silent. "Lucius was to one who killed your family, why did you have to torture Draco!?"- The furniture started shaking.

Tomas looked like he didn´t understand why the auror was so angry.

"Lucius is dead. - he said matter of flatly. - How other way would I be able to make him pay?"

The blow knocked him to the floor, chair included. The cup on the table exploded spilling tea over the surface, and dripping onto the stone floor.

"Harry that´s enough. Control yourself, or I'll have to ask you to leave." - Mione put the man and his chair up again with an effective levitation spell, but didn´t make any other move to help the guard.

Harry took a few laps around the room walking like a caged lion, taking deep breaths until he could calm down and return to the interrupted interrogation.

"I'm fine Mione. I'm fine. It was just a start. Won´t happen again."

Tomas's cheek was starting to bruise and swell, but despite being an expert in healing spells Hermione just left it as it was. In the background of her mind, she was darkly pleased with the pain he had to be under. No man so repugnant as to rape someone should have it easy.

"For how long have you been torturing Draco?"

"Will be seven years next month." - The satisfaction is his voice made her want to punch him this time.

 _"He pretty much has been torturing him since Draco came into Azakaban. Dear God, at the time Draco had only been seventeen."_ She looked in horror at the monster; no one could ever do that to a child, not even after the death of their family.

The low growl at her back informed her that Harry had also come to the same conclusion. But this time the Auror got his ire mastered, even if very barely. The murderer heat of his aura could easily be perceived in the dim room. No need for so strong a magic, to be out the body of its owner to make its presence know.

Determined to get it over with, she pushed forward.

"Was you who cursed Draco with the dementor spell?"

"Yes."

That's what the woman had been dreading. _–"So not all information on the spell had been deleted."_ \- They must find and destroy the remainder as soon as possible. A magic so dark in the wrong hands ... she didn´t want to think about it.

"How did you get that information? Tell us everything."

"One of the elves found cleaning a half-burnt diary belonging to a former guard, and brought it to me to ask what to do with it. When I flipped through its pages, I found it containing old punishments for inmates. Decided to practice them in Malfoy. The most powerful one was that curse, but most of the explanation of its effects had been burned. I did not know exactly what it did, but it seemed so dark I assumed that whatever happened would make Malfoy suffer. That was all that mattered at the time."

"And then you had to include the Lord Dementor in the situation? - Harry knew that the needles weren´t Tomas thing. He was certain of it.

"The Dementor Lord found that Malfoy was becoming one them, and claimed him as his own. He took him from the cell. Threatened to kill Henry if I said a thing about it."

"Henry knows about this?" - The female auror asked.

"No, Henry knows nothing."

"Where`s the old diary?" – The should be done with it before any more dark curses made it to bad hands.

"In my room, under the mattress."

Hermione looked at Harry to see if he wanted to ask something else but it seemed that he was still trying to absorb what he had just heard. And she needed time to think. With a simple, quiet, estupefy, Tomas was made to sleep again.

"Harry, are you okay?" - Approached her friend.

"No Hermione. I'm not fine. And I don´t think I will be until that monster pays for what he has done." -

"I know. I want to see justice done. What he has done to Draco is unforgivable." - Harry was surprised to detect true hatred in his, normally calm, friend's voice.

A soft mumbled sound alerted both to Draco. Who seemed to be having a nightmare, new tears had begun to slip through his eyelashes, and his body trembles like dipped in icy wather.

In a moment Harry was beside him, stroking his back gently, trying to comfort and care for him.

 _"He really does love him."_ Mione tought. Sadly, her instinct were telling her this wasn´t going to end well anyone involved.

**oOo**

When Hermione returned with the simple, brown, blackened by fire and eaten by the years, diary, she found Harry on his knees holding Draco's head in his lap, while running his hand through light blond hair, in caresses full of tenderness and whispered soothing words.

Draco was still sobbing quietly under his breath, trapped in the nightmare, but looked calmer and he didn´t tremble anymore. Harry looked at her approach the pain clear on his face.

"Hermione, I can´t wake him. I think it might be because of the curse. We have to release him." - The decision and urgency in his voice, made Hermione go to find Godric's journal secured in her pack.

"We should have done this before, but with all that has happened ..." - Sat next to his friend so that he too could read it.

As the first page opened, the elegant gold letter were already there.

"Morning Hermione."- The book wrote.

"Good morning."

"I can feel you're worried?" - She couldn´t help smiling at his care.

"Nothing that we aren´t going to repair. Could you help us?"

The elegant script didn´t need to be asked twice.

"Of course. What I can do for you dear?"

"We need to know how to undo the curse of the Dementor." - The page went blank for a moment before answering, the letter had a sad cadence.

"I'm sorry but I won´t be able to help. The Curse of the dementor is impossible to break."

**It will continue.**


	15. Decisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "We need to know how to undo the curse of the Dementor." - The page went blank for a moment before answering, the letter had a sad cadence.  
> "I'm sorry but I won´t be able to help. The Curse of the dementor is impossible to break."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor, poor Draco, I´m so evil. XD

**Dementor Kiss**

**Chapter 15- Decision**

_"We need to know how to undo the curse of the Dementor." - The page went blank for a moment before answering, the letter had a sad cadence._

_"I'm sorry but I won´t be able to help. The Curse of the dementor is impossible to break."_

_“What time is it?”_ – Harry  asked himself, just as he noticed the old clock handing by the wall. His battered needles almost at one a.m.  
  
The rattling ticking mingled with the soft sounds of breathing, and the occasional crackling of the fire adding his own whisper to the calm reigning in the room.  
The only light coming from its little orange flames still dancing on the hearth, their sway making the shadows move, and the objects bathe in orange gloss.  
  
Hermione's hair, all he could see of his fast asleep friend under the blankets, looked bronze under it. In the other pallet, Pansy, was still unconscious, her face buried in the pillow. Tomas, behind him, must still be tied to the chair.

Harry felt a moment of gratefulness for not being able to see him from his place on the floor. He might have yielded to the temptation and hurt the corrupt guard, even if Hermione would not have been happy by Harry eliminating the man before forcing him to testify.  
  
All occupants of the room, save him, were sleep.  
  
The reason for his wakefulness sighed against the curve of his neck. His icy breath, making the dark haired auror, shiver.

Draco. Fast asleep in his arms.

Thank Merlin he wasn´t crying anymore. Harry couldn´t bear seeing the blond suffer.  
  
Without really thinking, he gently tucked the blankets around Draco. Worried to feel how much his temperature had dropped, his breath condensing in the cold air of Azkaban as if his temperature inside was lower than that of the prison itself. The bluish color of his lips not reassuring, and the ash color of his robe making the auror mourn the lost white.

His desire to hit Tomas came back with vengeance, just as his mind recalled the words of the diary:   
  
_"Sorry but I won´t be able to help. The dementor's curse doesn´t have a cure."_  
  
Both he and Hermione had needed several minutes before getting calm enough to continue reading.  
  
What they had learned, he hoped, would give them some needed clues to find a way to reverse the spell.  
  
 _"The Curse of the dementor is very powerful, true, but precisely because of the large amount of magic that involves, its casting is very complex._  
  
No victim becomes instantly a dementor. It’s only when they take their first soul that the transformation reaches its critical point and the body begins to mutate.  
  
Before that happens the white phase, in which the will be dementor, is between the two worlds. No human, no dementor yet. But the curse always struggles to complete itself. Corrupts all happy memories of the subject, making them painful, fosters the need to feed. Its power destroys the person until this submits.  
  
The white robe getting darker and darker...  until it ends black. 

_This is just speculation of course. Never any of the damned were allowed to stay more than a few minutes like white dementors. There was always a waiting convict to take the kiss when they were cursed.  
  
The assumption was that if left white, the dementor would end up devouring anyone in his vicinity, after deteriorating by hunger until he couldn´t take it anymore. The prolonged agony could end seriously damaging the mind of the creature. A white dementor is not stable. It’s better if you let the curse complete itself._  
  
Hermione and Harry had refused. They were going to seek a cure no matter what.  
  
 _“Okay... If you going to seek a cure, you will need all the time possible. It´s not much, I know, but I can tell you some ways to slow down the process.  
  
Keep him as hot as possible, part of the curse will try to freeze his body. Make sure he doesn’t start losing meals, it means his body is preparing to change foods. And especially don´t leave him alone, the curse feeds on loneliness, sadness and pain.  
  
It's all I know, I wish I could be of more help.”_  
  
They had talked about what to do, and finally decided to wait until morning before going to ministry, hand over Tomas and speak with Kingsley. They only had Ron left to speak with, but he hadn´t returned yet.   
  
_"Ron is late. Where can he be?"_

It had been hours since the red haired man should have returned. Concerned but not so much, due to knowing his friend was capable of taking care of himself, and unable to leave Draco alone, Harry finally started to doze, lulled by the pleasant notion of his lovers presence.  
  
He had almost completely fallen asleep, when something awakened him again.

At first he didn´t even know what had roused him. Until he looked around, and saw at the foot of  Hermiones cot, where she was still asleep, Ron.  
  
He raised himself on one arm, ready to call and explain what had been happening. But the words died in his lips when he saw the wand point at a defenseless Mione.  
  
“Avada... ”  
  
“NO!” - Was launching in rapid motion getting Ron by tackling his legs. His friend immediately began to squirm and kicked him in the chest, able to throw him back.  
  
“What are you doing Ron?!” - Saw the redhead was pointing his wand at him, just as he had done with Mione, and immediately threw himself into a savage fight to wrest the wand out of the others hands. The blank stare of Ron, so dark and empty, told Harry all he needed to know. Imperius.  
  
The screams woke Hermione and Draco.  
  
Pansy was too exhausted even to flinch.  
  
“What's going on?” - Mione rubbed her eyes, still exhausted after two days without any sleep.  
  
Harry punched Ron to the floor, and tried to take the wand again, but Ron was bigger and more muscular, and he was getting very difficult to overpower.  
  
They rolled on the floor each trying to gain control. Striking and grappling. Harry too focused on keeping the path of the wand away from Hermione and Draco, to realize when Ron just pointed it Tomas way.  
  
“Relasio.” – He growled under his breath, Harry's arm around his neck choking him.  
  
Tomas was free.  
  
Hermione hurried to get her wand.  
  
But the guard had already located the fallen wand of Harry, and didn´t waste time taking it before aiming at her.  
  
Mione raised her wand just as Tomas speaked.  
  
“Speliarmus!”  
  
“Crucio!”  
  
The female auror screamed and fell to the ground. She had underestimated the speed Tomas was capable of.  
  
“HERMIONE!” - The cry of Harry, finally pulled Draco from his state of insensibility.  
  
Granger was convulsing on the floor while Tomas lauged, and Harry struggled to wrest the wand out of Wesleys hands. To meet the situation so suddenly, left Draco disoriented and unable to know what to do.  
  
“Speliarmus!” - Tomas took Miones wand. The Auror tried to get up but the agony in her  muscles made her fall back.  
  
Harry managed to take good catch of Ron's neck and started pressing, determined to choking him unconscious. He ignored the blows that his friend was pitching, despite the pain, and tightened further his straining muscles. Ron panted unable to catch his breath.  
  
“If you had not gotten where you ought not to, this wouldn´t have happened.” – Tomas, furious, aimed at Harry – “Septunsembra!”  
  
The auror tried to jump aside, to avoid it, but Ron held him, grabbing his arm at the last possible moment.  
  
 Stopping his friend back, and watching as blood was splattered all over.  
  
“HARRYYYYYY!” – Draco screamed. The Auror didn´t move. Never in his life Draco had felt so much pain and hatred as he felt, in that instant, looking at the man who had spilled his loved blood.

 “YOU!” - Hissed. The light in the room dimed on the spot, the temperature dropped several degrees. A dark aura began to take over him. Tomas stepped back in surprise.  
  
He didn´t even see it coming.  
  
Draco threw the guard to the ground, crawling over him and grabbing his jaw so hard, that his fingernails ripped flesh and blood stained his fingers and the man’s cheeks. Coming out in riluets.

Tomas shouted.  
  
Draco smiled a killer grin.  
  
“Can I have a kiss?” - He hissed with venomous sweetness, his lips dangerously close.  
  
“Draco!” - Granger's voice?  
  
Tomas took the opportunity to kick him in the stomach, and throw his body to the ground like a rag.  
  
The blond coughed violently, a trickle of blood runing down his lips.  
  
“Ron!”  
  
Hermione slipped behind the table escaping her friend, but the auror, instead of trying to run around the table in turn, pushed the furniture against the wall, brutally crushing Mione with it.  
  
The cry that was torn from her lips, made Draco a little sick.  
  
Tomas approached him wand in hand.  
  
“It´s a pity Draco, but I think it´s time for you to die. But don´t worry, you aren´t going to go alone, I will send the Aurors your way, just in a little bit.”  
  
A cruel smile playing on his lips.  
  
But just as he was muttering the first word of the spell, his hand was covered by ice.  
  
“WHAT...!”  
  
The firelight became mere embers under the oppressive darkness that suddenly filled the room. On the floor, the walls, upon the furniture, between the hair of the ones present, ice crystals began to rise.  
  
Fear, terror, panic. A primal run instinct, took all of them.  
  
The aura of terror swept all and shook the audience as if the figure in the doorway was the image made flesh, of their worst nightmares.  
  
Tomas fell to his knees:  
  
“My Lord.”  
  
The Dementor Lord entered the chamber completely ignoring the guard. His eyes only for Draco, the delicate curve of his body, the brightness of his hair, the crystal gray of his eyes. There, prostrated on the ground, with blood on those so young lips, that made the Lord want to clean them with the tip of his tongue, was the one he was going to make his. The only one that mattered in this room.   
  
Draco shook under such intense gaze.  
  
“You've had your time and you've already exhausted.” – Griever hissed, as if he was the one who had granted these last days of heaven with the dark haired auror.- “Come back to me and I will respect the lives of all of them.”  
  
The gesture of his hand covered the entire place. Draco felt his heart sink. He needed time to process it all, just time to stand up. Everything ached and whirled, yet he could not even process what happened yesterday. But the Dementor Lord wasn´t giving him more time.  
  
He looked at Harry, the blood from the wounds, the labored breathing ...  Only one answer left in him.  
  
The Dementor Lord reached out to help him up ... and Draco's pale fingers intertwined with his.

“I will go with you.”  
  
Behind them a dozen dementors came out of the shadows and waited for their master's orders.  
  
 **It will continue**


	16. Dusk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He looked at Harry, the blood from the wounds, the labored breathing ... Only one answer left in him.
> 
> The Dementor Lord reached out to help him up ... and Draco's pale fingers intertwined with his.  
> “I will go with you.”

Whispers.  
Hurt all over.  
What had he gotten himself in, this time? Harry had long since lost count of all the times he had ended waking worn-out, patched, and barely there, after a mission.  
 A groan left his lips when someone touched his shoulder. It hurt.  
“Harry? Are you awake?” - Hermiones voice.  
“Yes, yes. I´m awake.” -  And opened his eyes wearily, hoping to be back in the medical ward of the Auror department, but finding an unfamiliar room instead.  
The bedroom looked like a chamber out of a magical mansion of some long gone era, morning light spilling through the windows and the very dark clouds, to cast the place in it´s sad gray pallor.

The only other illumination, came from a large pink granite hearth, and the nice fire crackling inside. Amber light spilling on a tea table surrounded by a sofa and a couple of armchairs, all of them in red velvet and soft golden embroidered cushions, made for a little secluded area.

There, alone, was Ron, sitting in the left chair, back to the window, head in hands, hiding his face.  
Harry looked away, needing time to think, noticing for the very first time, the huge canopied bed he was lying on. Inwardly, he thanked the feather cushions on which Hermione had probably reclined him. Their gentle touch not as painful on his wounds as it could have been. Some faded red gold embroidered quilt covered everything else, feeling pleasantly warm, even with his racing heart.

Under it the only things on his body, were his shorts and the bandages that wrapped his chest and arms. Some of the white spotted in red.   
“How are you feeling?” – Something in Mione´s soft tone was off.  
Harry looked at his best friend, suddenly more aware.  
Hermione sat in a chair beside his bed looking at him with concern. On the table beside her, a basin, a pitcher, and some blood-stained bandages and cloth, spoke of her hand in the impromptu treatment of his injuries.  
“I've been better.” – The auror smiled just to reassure her. And tried to remember why was he hurt this time. His head ached and he felt uneasy, as if something very important was missing. His own magic seemed to be trying to find that… something, he couldn´t remember just now.   
“Hermione... Why I'm hurt?”  
“Don´t you remember?” - Mione looked totally exhausted. The rumpled and stained with dirt, loose and disheveled hair, framing her sleep needed face. Her hands twisting a rolled up damp cloth, that she seemed to had been applying to him.

“No ... my head hurts ...” – And looked harder at her face, looking for whatever he was lacking.  
“Someone hit you with a septumsembra spell when you were trying to stop Ron.”  
“Septumsembra ...” - Something... something… something nagged him... He could not remember! The urgency was growing. The need little by little harder to ignore. He shifted uneasily. – “Hermione... I can´t remember what happened.”  
Her friend looked between worried and frantic. And it was a look the woman didn´t want in his face.   
“You hit your head pretty strong, it may be that. But there doesn´t seem to be major damage. Surely it´s just the shock, it'll pass in a few hours. But Harry ... Do not you remember Draco?” - Now that really seemed to worry her.  
“Dra... co ...” - Whispered the name slowly, tasting each letter. Something in his head jumped like an alarm. THAT! And shouted. – “Draco!” – Harry bolted upright remembering. And the sudden pain doubled him in half, but even so, it didn´t stop the auror from grabbing his friend by the shoulders roughly. –“Where is Draco?!”  
Hermione 's eyes glazed over.  
“Harry ... you have to understand ... We couldn´t do a thing.”  
“What are you talking about Mione?” – It felt like something was starting to squeeze his heart, taking his breath, chilling his skin.  
“SHE SPEAKS ABOUT HOW THEY LET THAT MONSTER TAKE MY BEST FRIEND!” – Pansy, who had been sitting in the windowsill where Harry didn´t come to see her, stormed out of her hiding place to stand in front of Hermione, who rose from her chair ready to defend herself, and her friend.  
“We could do nothing! None of us could do anything! Did you? Did you do something?!” – The curly haired woman seemed at the limit of her nerves.  
“I was unconscious!”  
“And Harry was bleeding out! Ron under a Imperius! And I, in case you haven´t noticed, could barely walk!” – She looked ready to strike, but did not.  
For a second Hermione remained silent and furious, until finally, Pansy´s mask cracked, and tears began to fall from her eyes, legs losing strength. Mione quieted at the display, and just helped the other woman sit on the edge of the bed.  
“ ... I know, I know.” - Pansy was muttering between sobs- “It's just so unfair ...” - the Auror silently offered her handkerchief.

Harry just needed to know. Had to ask again.   
“Hermione ... What does she mean? What happened to Draco?” – Like ice traveled his veins, he felt himself shiver. –“Where is Draco?”  
Hermione just shrugged on herself, some invisible weight threatening to crush her.  
“Draco… Harry ... – she tried again, even when she really didn´t want to tell. Didn´t want to look at the pain her words where going to bring her friend. But he asked. He deserved the truth. - the Dementor Lord took him.”  
“No.” – A whisper, barely a sound. Harry could not believe it. Didn´t believe it.   
“Listen to me please.” – Mione insisted. – “The Dementor Lord threatened to kill us all if he didn´t agreed to go with him for good. He did all he could to protect you. To protect us all.”   
Harry took a sharp breath, looked away abruptly. Couldn´t remember a time in witch more painful words were said to him. Not even when he had been about to lose Ron’s friendship. Even his magic was reacting strangely. Harry could feel it inside, like a flame would be felt by a moth, his power angry and scorching. Needing out.   
“I'm going to find him.” - Stood up and tried to get out of bed. Hermione hastily interposed before he could get really on his feet.  
“Harry no! You shouldn´t move, the wounds are serious. Don´t you see?” - The male auror threw the covers aside.  
“Stand aside Mione. I will not let Draco sacrifice himself.” – Harry´s magic brushed her skin like a steam puff. The calm in his voice more alarming than a scream would have been. “Harry, we are in the Dementors tower. Detained. Don´t you understand? We are being held as a way to ensure his obedience. None of us have his wand, no our potions. You are alive only because the spell did not cut into an artery, but if the wounds reopen, you could bleed to death. Even without the dementors guarding the door it would be suicide. We can´t help Malfoy! It's crazy to try!”  
Harry looked at her.  
Hermione felt her breath taken away by a look so full of magic, it was like Harry was sizzling inside.   
“Hermione. Draco will become a dementor. You may or may not help, but I'll go.”  
They stared into each other’s gazes for a long seconds. A battle of wills taking place.   
But in the end, it was she who looked away.

Hermione sighed and stepped aside, knowing that short of physically wrestling him to bed, she could do nothing to make him stay.  
That only left her one option.

“I'll help in any way I can. If the one I loved was in the same situation, I would try to save him at all costs too.” - Offered a small smile of encouragement, that Harry returned full of gratitude.  
“Thanks Mione.” - Stood up with some difficulty.  
“I will go too.” - Pansy rose from the bed and looked at Harry like challenging him to reject her words. – “He's my best friend.”  
Potter nodded.  
“Good.” - Picked up his pants and boots from the floor and began dressing, his shirt and coat left aside, unusable after the attack.  
“Harry ... I ... I'm sorry.” – He was making the last lace of his boots, when the words of Ron made him finish tying them in an unnecessarily violent motion.  
“It wasn´t your fault Ron.” - Said as he stood with his back to his friend, not even looking at him.  
Harry could hear how the red haired man sat up and approached a few steps, but he didn´t turn, he didn´t want this conversation. Not now, not when so much was at stake.   
Getting Hermione to see things his way, had not been overly difficult. But she had always been sympathetic and intuitive. Surely his love for Draco had been visible for her kilometers before Harry said anything.  
Ron was another matter entirely. And now he couldn´t afford to waste time on explanations that Ron would take hours to digest, let alone accept.  
Harry didn´t think his best friend would forgive the blond all those times he had insulted him while they were at Hogwarts. But people change, Draco was no longer the same person. Regardless of the curse, his stay in Azkaban, or all the suffering he had gone through, he had made himself better.   
Kind, sweet, funny, pure and strong, so very strong…  
Somehow, someway, Draco had done it. And Harry loved him for it.  
Ron was now quiet, just a few steps behind him. Could almost hear the way he was wringing his hands like every time he felt nervous.  
 _"Drop it so I can leave."_ \- Harry thought, but alas, it was not mean to be.   
“Harry ... - the first word was stiff, strained. - I don´t understand… why Malfoy? Hermione told me ... but she´s wrong, right?”  
Harry took a breath and counted to ten inside his head, before making himself answer.  
“No, Ron, she´s right. I'm in love with Draco.”  
The response was immediate.  
“Why?! We have always been treated like dirt by him and his friends. He IS a Death Eater! You cannot say something like that and mean it.”   
The magic ruffled Harry´s hair and he turned around, before he managed to restrain himself. That the words came from his best friend Ron, helped greatly to control his desire to stick a punch ... but only barely.  
“Ron. I will not discuss this now. Draco has changed, and if you knew him as I do, you would think the same. And even if I wasn´t in love, no one deserves to end up as a Dementor! So just… I have to go.” – Had to still his tongue before something he didn´t want to say left his lips.    
Potter moved toward the door with his magic almost purring around his body. Pansy and Hermione who had remained respectfully silent during the discussion, came too.  
Looked at the gate, ignored when Ron tried to talk to him again…  
 _"If we do nothing we are going to lose Draco."_   Called for his magic, felt it condense and thicken around, more and more oppressive, more concentrated, more powerful… _"I will not allow it."_ Gritting his teeth, concentrated all his will to handle that power, to manipulate it as he wished, to focus it on one thing, and one thing only.  
And his magic responded magnificently.  
The door exploded outward. Wood chips, iron fragments, nails… were thrown against the Dementors on the other side.  
Harry looked at them. The magic swirled wildly on his hair, his eyes shone with a green light.  
 _"Draco."  
"Harry ... I'm in love with you "  
_“Specto Patronum!”

**oOo**

(Draco)  
The rooms of the Dementor Lord were magnificent, even after so many visits. But Draco didn´t want to admire his surroundings.  
He was watching the flames on the fireplace.  
Did not notice the dozens of lit candles, slowly dying in every corner. Not the elegant dark wooded furniture, or the exquisite carvings of phoenixes and lions. The incredibly soft cushions of silk and velvet... All red, all embroidered in gold, where ignored. The impressive libraries covering every wall, the window, the huge four poster bed... nothing registered.   
But what he really did not want to see, who he really wanted to ignore, were the other occupants of the room.  
He was as far as he could from them, without being disobedient.  
Hands outstretched to the fire, as if warming up. Just turned away and keeping his eyes on the red dancing lights.  
But the tension in his shoulders betrayed his nervousness.  
The Dementor Lord, Thomas and William, were sitting in the seats around the tea table, the Lord presiding from the most comfortable chair.  
An instant later couple of taps on the door announced the entrance of someone else. Draco recognized the voice of Lady Margaret.  
“My Lord, I bring some drinks.” – Her hissing voice, usually so friendly, sounded dull and lifeless. Draco felt the urge to turn around and see what could have happened to the kind female dementor, but did not. Right now he couldn´t do anything for her.

  
Margaret hurried over to the Lord with the tray, three fine crystal glasses and a bottle of elvish liquor prepared in it. The dark lord took one coup with a nod, then, she went to Thomas and William offering the other two, and began serving the wine.  
Trying not to be seen, not noticed, she spied the presence of her little one.

When he had disappeared from the tower Margaret had been so worried... She wanted to go to him, hug his quivering frame and make him feel cared for. But she knew the Lord would not be pleased with such an open attitude.  
So she made herself wait, and don´t stare at Draco’s taut as a violin string back, hoping he would be ok.  
Griever tasted the liquor leisurely. Being a dementor he did not need food as such, but could still enjoy the taste of a good wine from time to time.  
Over the rim of his own glass he looked at Draco.  
Soon a member of the tower...  and his lover.  
Griever had waited long for someone like him. So very rare where in Azkaban prisoners as young and attractive as the blond. But what made him unique, what had attracted him from the moment he saw his trembling frame for the first time in that tiny cell, was his purity. He could feel it as a delicious perfume, taste it like sugar on his tongue.  
Yes, the perfect lover.  
When a wizard becomes a dementor his sins take shape in his body, and it mutates, monstrously, according to the nature of them.  
While this appearance was only visible for other Dementors, as the aura of terror made them look the same for the rest of the world, the resulting shape is still usually very unpleasant.  
Margaret was a clear example of muddy corpse appearance, the result of the curse she released on a muggle village. Yes, the female dementor might seem friendly, but had massacred the entire population with a curse of sickness so slow, sickening and painful, that she had been sentenced to the worst possible punishment.   
What did it matter if there had been children and innocent people in there? The stupid muggles should have known better than to burn a witch 's daughter.  
The point was, that as a result, all the Dementors were physically... unpleasant. But Draco, with that purity, was sure to end with minimal mutation.

Yes, surely Draco was the only prisoner in all Azkaban with the capability to be worthy of his bed.  
This is why he had forced that poor elf to deliver the diary containing ritual, to Tomas.  
The one Griever had managed to save, when the old guards of Azkaban had destroyed with his fire all magic documents relating to the curse.  
But saving it all those centuries had been worthwhile.  
Poor Tomas, even now, he didn´t suspect a thing.  
Everything was perfect, except for one thing .  
When Malfoy looked at the young auror, the Lord had felt it well, their love.  
His gaze cooled as he continued to watch the slytherin.That kind of feelings were repugnant. Draco was going to regret having them, nurturing them, ever having fallen for Potter. He would make sure of it. And meanwhile, using the Auror was an easy way of having the blond controlled.  
At least until tomorrow evening, when the welcoming ceremony for Draco was going to be held; The devouring of his first soul. Then there would be no turning back.  
Griever took another sip of wine.  
Everything was going to end just as he had planned.  
Although improvements were still possible.  
“Draco.”- He called.  
The hissing cold and dark voice of the lord chilled Malfoy.  
“…My Lord?” – He dared not be silent, but didn´t turn around. His hands trembled slightly, and he hastened to hide the shivers by rubbing them as if cold.  
Under his facade of indifference there were many things that he tried to don´t think about; the rejection of Harry, his rescue from Thomas, the touch of his magic, the feeling of love that came with it.  
Too much to assimilate it all.  
Draco knew he couldn´t touch those thoughts, no if he wanted to remain controlled.    
And he couldn´t afford a collapse now.  
Maybe he was confused and hurt, and surely he was holding it all only by a miracle, but he had in mind the only real truth that could sustain him, his love for Harry.  
If he failed, the most important person in the world for him, could die.  
So Draco gathered all the pure blood coldness running through his veins, the lessons as an immovable noble, and his own manipulative mastery of a slytherin, and armed himself with them, making an armor with witch to cover his emotions.  
Finally he turned to the three monsters in the room.  
“Come here.” – The Dementor Lord called.  
In a few fluids steps, Draco stood before him, looking down and waiting respectfully.  
“Tell me one thing Draco.” – Griever asked. Languidly sipping his drink, watching, analyzing. -  “How long have you and the dark haired auror been in love?”  
Margaret could not help a small sound of surprise. Tomas choked on his drink and started coughing, but nevertheless managed to shout half drowned.  
“What?! What love? Malfoy is a Death Eater. He can´t feel love! Not the kind humans know at least.”   
The tower master raised his hand imperiously, without even looking at him, and Tomas fell in silence reluctantly.  
Draco swallowed, but that was his only sign of weakness. When he answered, his voice, though soft, was firm.  
“Just a few days.”  
Tomas gasped like a fish out of water.  
“No way!”  
Griever smirked. Though his face could not be seen a shudder ran through all the present ones. He put the glass down carefully, deliberately ignoring the scandal.  
“Why? Why can´t Draco fall in love?” - Said gently, as if the answer really interested the dark master.  
Tomas gestured sharply to the silent blond.  
“Because he's a Malfoy! A family that cannot be considered human, none of them! Murderers and monsters! That´s what they are!”  
Griever could no longer be silent. A hissing laughter as metal on stone escaped his throat. All others cowered in terror.  
“Tomas ... years now knowing Draco and yet you refuse to see him for what he is?” - Rose with the fluid movement of a shadow. – “Never, never arose in you the need to use verisaterum on him. Why´s that?” - Approached the guard like a snake about to strike. – “It occurs to me that maybe you already knew the truth? Yes, of course you knew. But you were afraid to see it confirmed, because then, you would no longer have anything to pay for your pain. No one to avenge the death of your family on.”  
“What are you talking about?” – Tomas tried to keep his voice steady, and failed miserably.  
The Dementor Lord leaned over his chair to whisper conspiratorially in his ear.  
“Draco is innocent.” - The soft, almost gentle whisper, made Tomas scream.  
“NO!” - Stood up abruptly, face to face with the dark lord. – “You lie!”  
“Why would I lie, Tomas?”- He smiled even more before the horrified gaze of the guard. - “We can bring some verisaterum and see if my words are true. But I think you don´t need it, Am I right?”  
The man took a few steps back, breathing hard. His gaze flicked to Draco. But the blond man had not looked up. The dark circles under his clean eyes clear, the curve of his defeated shoulders, spoke volumes.   
“Malfoy... that´s not true, right?” - The question sounded almost like a plea.  
“What does it matter?” - Draco 's voice monotonous and dull, not even looking at him.  
“You see, Tomas. You have been torturing an innocent man. For how long? Seven years?” – The condescending tone was more hurtful than malice itself.  
The Lord approached the guard who had retreated to the door.  
“You let anger rule over your life, and you closed your eyes to the evidence showing your mistake. For, if Draco was innocent, then your life no longer had meaning. Is not so?”  
Tomas buried his face in his hands. He did not want to keep listening. Could not keep listening.  
The Lord moved closer, lips brushing the lobe of his hear as he continued mercilessly.  
“You know what's the best of it? That it´s you, who has given him to me. How does it feel to convict an innocent man to an eternity of suffering?”  
Unable to take it anymore Tomas fell to his knees.  
“Are not you going to apologize for all the times you've hurt him? Are you not going to apologize for the tortures, rape, heinous words?”  
The guard trembled but said nothing.  
“I thought so.” - The despising in the terrifying voice could be felt like oil on skin. – “You're pathetic. You can´t even be a worthy monster?” - Hissed. - “So what are you going to do? Are you going to stand there and lament? Or are you going to finish what you started?” - Towered over the prostrate figure as a deity of destruction. – “If you will not apologize, then... Finish what you started!” - Bellowed. –“LOOK AT ME!”  
Tomas had not stopped shaking, but finally, convulsively, looked up.  
He looked lost on his old-looking face, and the agony could be read in him. The Dementor Lord showed no mercy.  
“You wanted revenge. Still want revenge. Do you not?” - The darkness fluctuated, seductive, the breaths began to condense in the frozen air. Tomas could not look away.  
He nodded weakly.  
The dark lord smiled cruelly.  
“Draco is from the blood and flesh of the man who killed your family. It's literally the only living trace of him.” - Noted the anger return to the guards look, as an aqueous shadow. – “But he is innocent and pure, and not to blame for the actions of that man.”– And saw him hesitate. – “Yet, you still want your revenge?”  
Draco stood still as the Lord ruthlessly tore his robe to the waist, seductively sliding the fabric off his shoulders and arms, exposing the slender torso and pink nipples. The monster slid his hands over skin, stroking up, catching one of the rosy buttons between his fingers. He tugged gently.  
Draco remained indifferent as an statue.  
“Tell me then.” - The eyes of guard seemed attached to the manipulations of those long fingers. – “What do you want? Revenge?” – Made another small tug and slid one leg between Draco 's thighs, forcing him to open his legs a little more. – “Or penance?” - Took the hem of the white robe with his free hand, and slowly lifted it, so the man could better appreciate those pale spread legs.  
“Revenge.” - And his voice sounded like it could have been that of an infery. The twinkle in his eyes had become feverish and crazy.  
The Dementor Lord smiled like a proud father.  
“That's it.”- He reached out to Tomas, taking him of the floor. – “Then, you will kill the Auror. And you will do it for the man who killed your wife, so his child feels the same pain you felt.”  
The mask Draco had weaved on, cracked slightly, gasped at those words, could not remain silent. He looked at the guard, pleading.  
“No, Harry is innocent. His only offense was being too good. It's not his fault that I love him. Please… “- Muttered. The hand of the Lord closed gently around his throat, could feel the grip on his skin; A warning.  
Still...  
“Please.” - Barely whispered.  
Tomas leaned over him posing his lips on Dracos own. He kissed him slowly, almost languid, stroked with his tongue his shut lips. But the Lord Dementor put pressure on Dracos throat forcing him to open up, and the possessive tongue of Tomas slid into his mouth. The saliva of both mixed and remained like a thread for a moment, connecting them when Tomas retired, as if he only wanted to taste his mouth again.  
“Forgive me.”- Tomas breathed on his lips. His eyes bright and dark. – “But the Lord is right, I choose revenge.” - He turned away from them. Draco could not speak, felt a lump in his throat as painful as Griever´s claws around his neck.  
The guard came to the door, his hand on the doorknob.  
“I'll tell Potter you love him.” - Did not even turn to look at Draco. Opened the door. – “I could not tell her.” – It closed behind his retreating back.   
“You said you would not hurt him.” – Draco moaned trapped between  Grievers arms.  
“And I have not. Neither I nor any of the servants of the tower will touch him. But Tomas is a guard. He takes his own decisions.” - Whispered in his ear.   
Draco knew if he resisted the Dementor Lord would had send the dementors to kill Harry, and that, he would not survive.   
So he could only remain confident that Wesley Granger would protect him from Tomas.  
Long fingers like spider legs slid between his thighs.  
He closed his eyes.  
And prepared to embrace the darkness.

  
**It will continue.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coments would be apreciated ^^


	17. Trial-1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco knew if he resisted the Dementor Lord would had send the dementors to kill Harry, and that, he would not survive.   
> So he could only remain confident that Wesley Granger would protect him from Tomas.  
> Long fingers like spider legs slid between his thighs.  
> He closed his eyes.  
> And prepared to embrace the darkness.

When Tomas arrived, the door of the room where the aurors had been locked had been destroyed, as if someone had cast a bombard spell. Although it shouldn´t have been possible, (the dementors had taken their wands after all) but somehow, his prey had escaped.  
Annoyed at having been denied the fast vengeance he had imagined, began to follow their trail.  
Discovering their movements through the corridors of the tower, was not difficult.  
Shattered furniture and open doors, still trembling dementors, traces of a magic so powerful it could be tasted... their trail easy as paint to follow.   
Was near the stairs that ascended to the top floor, when he finally managed to locate them. The aurors, accompanied by Parkinson, where exiting one of the rooms, Potter covering them at the door.   
Harry Potter, the man who had made Draco love... A flare of jealousy urged him to attack without considering the situation, but his years of experience as a guard stopped him. It would have been a stupid action that could have failed. What he needed was a decisive, impossible to gone wrong, act.   
Tomas watched from the corner in which he had hided himself, and felt the oppressive touch of Potters magic. Saw it around the auror like a mantle of power, flutter in his hair and give a green, similar to the Avada Kedavra glow, to his eyes.

He looked like a watching panther. Dangerous as one.   
Tomas knew at once, that if he confronted the man face to face, the auror would tear him like paper. And groaned inside. He needed to kill that man before being able to return to the Dementor Lord´s rooms, and Draco.  

Fucking Potter!   
So he watched more closely, searched for vulnerabilities… and noticed how Potter clenched his teeth, the red spots on the bandages around his torso.  
 _"The wounds have reopened_ __ _."_ And smirked.

It would have been easier if the man had died at the curse, make Draco suffer less. At least the blond wouldn´t have blamed himself as surely as he would now. But alas, it was not mean to be, and so Draco must suffer once more.

Tomas constrained the wand inside his hand, and crushed the notion at once. He had already chosen, had no right to think of the welfare of the young.  
Determined, returned his attention to the aurors.  
The bushy -haired woman looked worriedly at Potter, as if to ask him to stop. But she remained silent.  
The redhead seemed upset about something, and leaned against the wall, while others decided which way to go.  
Parkinson… just was unable to stay still, anxiety breathing inside her frame.  
Potter was the only one who seemed serene. His eyes and voice those of one who knows what he is willing to fight and die for.  
Tomas had seen similar looks during the war… A dangerous man. But even if dangerous, he was injured. And by the sweat on his face, and sliding down his athletic back, was obvious he was trying too hard. If attacked with sufficient stealth, was very unlikely to react in time.

The group decided to continue up the stairs.  
 _"Towards the Lord´s rooms."_ Tomas heart leaped. Needed to stop them now!  
 _"I just need to hurt him one more time. Potter won´t survive another serious injury."_  
Prepared the spell shielded behind the corner.  
Hermione caught movement from the corner of her eye. Looked...

 _"Tomas!"_ \- He was pointing at Harry.  
“Harry!” - In a swift movement she rose up against his friend, both unbalanced and fell through the door still open, to the floor inside. Hermione’s weight pressed against Harry´s injuries, causing a flare of pain that ran up his torso threatening to make him scream, just one second before the attack came.   
“Avada Kedavra!”  
A flash of green light passed by, to hit the opposite wall, blowing up stone chips that embed on the furnishings and scratched the aurors on the ground. After, Mione was quick getting herself out of Harry´s space.   
“Harry are you okay?”  
The auror gritted his teeth against the pain that the mauled wounds, had awakened again.  
Suddenly a bombard spell exploded down the corridor, cutting the answer he was about to give. The blast sent shards of glass and wood flying in the hallway, just as Harry pulled Hermione to the ground again. Most projectiles passed over them, but they still received some more scrapes.  
“Ron! Pansy!” – The auror shouted as the explosion passed.  
“Here!” - Ron had Pansy protected behind a column. 

Hermione sighed in relief.  
“Do not move from there!” - Called Harry. – _“Where is he?" -_ He managed to pull himself to the door, and spy from inside, despite the agony. Tomas was hiding behind the corner. Harry hissed.  
He didn´t have time for this, Draco needed him, had to rescue the little blond before it was too late. And knew he would not last much longer.  
So he pressed on the bandages, the feeling excruciating but necessary, to stop the bleeding, and called.  
“Tomas!” - Furious. His magic shook the paintings in the hallway, and several of them fell. – “Why don´t you come out and we fix this between us? Let’s have a wizard duel!”  
Hermione gasped horrified.  
“Harry, no.”  
“Is the only way Mione.” - She tried to protest but the guard's response was swift.  
“Okay Potter! Let’s get out!” - Tomas smiled. The noble Potter would abide by the rules and not expect him to breach them immediately. Or if he expected it, he was still hurt. Tomas would have no difficulty in hitting first, was on top heath, when Potter´s wounds would slow him.  
Both opponents came to the open space of the hall.  
The blood had soaked Harry´s bandages and now reddened the fabric of his pants. His black hair spiked in all directions, and his eyes were outlined by dark circles of pain and exhaustion, but his stance was firm, the curve of his jaw set.  
Flexed his fingers, called his magic.  
Tomas had the look of a madman, a predatory grin on his lips, and the wand nervous on his hand like a living thing.  
They stood face to face. The space between them seemed to crackle with energy despite the distance between them.  
Harry opened his mouth to signal the start of the duel.  
Tomas struck.  
“Daerfyre!” - Harry threw himself aside, dodging lightning fire that blackened the edge of his coat.  
“Stupefy!” - The guard could not dodge, the magic of the auror swept his body in a wave that launched him brutally against the wall.  
Hermione watched as the guard fell to the ground like a rag doll, and ran to help his friend. Harry staggered. Blood loss was starting to make him feel dizzy.  
“Ron, tie Tomas and bring his wand, Harry needs help.”-Mione called.   
The redhead was immediately working. Pansy approached them to ad her help.  
Among the two managed to hold Harry when his legs gave under him.  
The man gasped, trying to stay awake. - _"Draco needs me."_ -Tried to right himself again.  
“No... Hermione, I'm fine. I can go on.” - His friend cut him on the spot.  
“No way, Harry, you are not good.” - The auror continued to resist, but they dragged him into one of the dormitories down the hall. – “Ron, make him sleep!”  
“No ... Mione ... Draco ...” - Ron came up with Tomas wand...  
“I'm sorry Harry, but your life is more important.”  
Darkness.

**oOo**

**(** Draco)  
Never before had he entered the bathroom of the Lord, and had been surprised when instead of being subjected to his _"care"_ when Tomas came out, he was brought here.  
The bubbles gently caressed his skin. A feeling of floating, of not being able to think, taking him. Coherent thoughts were dissipated before forming.  
He sighed and slid down a little more into the soapy and fragrant water.  
The steam filled the room in lazy rings, the scent of lilacs teased his nose.

Draco closed his eyes, just barely able to recall the way he came here…

   
“Where are we?” - His chest hurt, as if someone had torn the inside with barbed wire. Tomas was going to kill Harry and he could not do anything about it. He did not know how he had managed to keep the mask in place. His face impassive.  
“In my bathroom.” – The Lord hissed behind him.  
The coldness of his presence dissipated, a little, in the steam of the full marble bath, he could now see.  
The moonlight streaming through the high window, and the amber torchlight, reflected on the hot water, made the lilac soap bubbles look like frail crystals. On the floor, a basket full of oils, soaps, and a large soft and thick as a wool blanket towel, waited for use.  
The Lord came closer and pulled something from inside his tunic.  
“Take it.” - Offered him a vial of exquisite cut glass, filled by light blue potion.  
“What is it?” – Draco barely made himself ask. Even if it were a poison he would have not cared.  
Griever put the vessel on his hands.  
“A calming potion. Drink it and take a bath.” - Ordered.  
Draco nodded minutely, incapable of anything else, maybe even a tad grateful. Needed something to calm down, and at least lessen a little the pain.  So, he uncorked the vial and took it to his lips, allowing the strange substance to slide down his throat and inside his stomach. The effects came just a second latter.  
His mind came to feel full of cotton, unable to think; his body completely relaxed and became calm. Still, despite having taken several doses together, the painful feeling didn’t go. But it was not more like an open wound, but rather an indefinite, refusing to go, ache, throbbing in his flesh, not half as bad as before.  
Did not even think of resisting when the dementor began to undress his body, and finally, once naked,  let him slide in the water.  
The heat soon began to relax Draco´s battered muscles.  
“I'll come back when you're done.”  
With those words the monster left him be.   
He washed with some vanilla soap found on the basket, and after, was just letting himself be rocked by the water, the caress of the bubbles, silence and lazy steam... dozing... when he woke up to arms taking him out of the water. Opened his eyes as he was tucked against a torso, and someone put the edge of another vessel to his lips.   
“Drink it.”  
Still half in the grip of the previous potion, Draco let the liquid slide down his throat. Immediately the dream world claimed him again.

“My Lord.” - William bowed and threw back the covers of the bed, so that the dark lord could put Draco to sleep.

The young man, just out of the bath, naked against the chest of Lord, looked pale as a ghost, and as vulnerable as glass.  
William looked away, before the dark lord could regard his shameful gaze with punishment. Couldn´t believe that for a moment, just one second, that bastard blond had made him feel the need to hug him, and snorted. _"Stupid Malfoy."_  His master’s voice jolted William from his thoughts.  
“ Is everything ready for the ceremony?”  
William hastened to answer helpfully. - “Not yet, but it will be for this evening.” Grievers warning aura was enough to make the other dementor rise and step back.  
“I hope you are right.” - Hissed.  
“My Lord.” - Bowed goodbye. Immediately gone to deal with the latest details, all too aware of the consequences of displeasing the Lord, and leaving Draco and Lady Margaret, who was trying to go unnoticed shrunken on herself, alone with him.

  
Ignoring the presence of the female, Griever studied Draco, shivering naked on the bed, luckily sleep.  
Sleep was the best option for the blond, for the time being. Didn´t want him to panic with the ceremony so near, not the transformation take place in a totally exhausted body.  
The young’s welfare mattered little to him, but it was important for the better take place of the ceremony.  
“When he wakes, dress and prepare him. William will come pick him up.”-Ordered without looking at the woman.   
Margaret nodded quickly, even if he couldn´t see.  
“Yes my Lord.”  
Griever left the room.

Margaret ran to tuck the blankets around his little one.  
“I'm sorry ... “- whispered. -  “Wish I could do something for you, but ...”

**oOo**

**(** Draco)  
He came awake feeling as rested as he had not been, since that one night with Harry.  
Opened his eyes searching for a green gaze, but his wish was not fulfilled. Who was sitting next to him was Lady Margaret.   
“Lady Margaret.” - Greeted just sitting up, and looked around. At least the Lord Dementor was not present.  
“Draco. I ... I'm sorry.”  

Draco turned to her, looking puzzled at her mournful face.  
“It wasn´t your fault.” - Said gently. Not wanting to worry the only woman who had cared for him like a mother since Narcisa fled to Europe.  
The dementor lady quickly wiped away her tears.  
“I´m so sorry. Here I am, foolishly crying when it's you who needs support.”  

The young man shook his head gently.  
“It's okay.” - Margaret cringed at the sadness in his voice. His eyes seemed so dull... She recognized the symptoms of someone who has finally given up, and could not stand it, had to do something.   
Margaret suddenly grabbed his pale hand.  
“Lady Margaret?”  
She was looking at him fiercely now, full of purpose.  
“I'll get that Auror.”  
Draco felt his mouth open, and closed it with a click.  
“I'm serious. I have ... I have to help you prepare for the ceremony because the Lord has commanded me. But ... but then I'm going to look for him so you can be sure he is okay, and… and...  ask for his help.- Margaret´s tongue ran with the words, trying to be understood as quickly as possible.  
“Are you serious?” – Draco muttered. Even if he couldn´t help, knowing if Harry was okay would be a great relief. Would make the poison of doubt inside, go away.  
Margaret nodded seriously... Draco hugged her.  
“Thank you.” - The words were muffled by the hood of her. They hugged as would a mother and a son. Offering and receiving comfort.  
“Thank you.”

**oOo**

**(** Harry)  
Voices.  
Hermione? She seemed to be arguing with someone. For the voice another woman.  
“…not in his condition. Do not you understand?”  
“Then I will go alone!” -

Parkinson?

“They will kill you!” - His friend 's voice sounded strained.  Harry knew that tone from when she was trying to make clear, something particularly difficult, to Ron without any success. Exasperation.  
“That's not your problem. Now give me the wand so I can go to save my best friend.” – Parkinson sounded nervous at best.  
“I can´t do that.  It's the only weapon we have to get out of here.” - Stubborn Mione answered.  
“Maybe you don´t care, you’ve always hated him. But I do!”  
“You think I like leaving Draco to such fate? Nobody deserves that!”

And Harry remembered, but made himself stay quiet.   
If Hermione noticed he was awake she would return him to sleep , and he couldn´t waste any more time. Knew he was fighting against every second. Knew his body was badly wounded. But also that waiting would make him lose Draco. Just as he knew he could die, if did not take enough time to recover.  
A bet against time that he could not lose.  
Listened, guessing Hermione´s position. The sound of her voice, the whisper of her coat against the stone, her breathing, the creaking of her boots...  
-“!” - Hermione fell to the ground with a gasp of surprise. Looked up to see that witch Harry was holding in his hands; Tomas wand. She had not even seen him move. “Harry what are you doing? You need to rest.”  
The healing spells she had cast when Harry was unconscious, were not by far enough for his wounds. Stabilizers alone. He needed to go to Sant Mungo as soon as he could.  
It was obvious he was not good, even without looking at his bandaged chest, she could see how pale was his skin, and how dark where the circles around his eyes.  
“Hermione ... I´m sorry I have to do this. Stupefy.”

  
**To be continued.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is pretty short because I had to cut it in two, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless. ;) Bye and see you soon. Comments, please? ^^


	18. Trial-2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "It's a soul!"  
> “Draco, NO!”

His friend lost her balance and collapsed unconscious. Ron ran to hold her, suddenly aware of the situation.  
“What are you doing Harry!? I can´t believe you would get to that point for Malfoy.” - Anger and disgust were so evident in his voice, like a fly floating in milk.  
Harry stared coldly. Time was running out.  
“I don´t expect you to understand Ron. But I´m going to ask you this; go to the ministry and call for reinforcements.” – And threw Tomas wand at the redhead.  
Ron picked it at fly, and gave him a look that said clearly how little he liked this, but nodded. Recognized that without outside help, Harry wouldn´t be able to stop this madness. And besides, he knew his friend well enough to know that arguing would be useless. But the knowledge  did not make it easier.   
“I will take Hermione with me.”   
The dark haired auror nodded, secretly relieved to not have to argue anymore.

Went to the door. Pansy ran to catch up with him.  
“I'm going with you.” –

Harry accepted. He would need all the help possible.

**OOo**

(Draco)

  
Sitting in front of the mirror, his reflection stared back at him like a doll.  
He felt like one.  Dressed and arranged to attend a ceremony that was just a farce.  
His hands clenched in his lap. He would not cry, refused to show how much he was hurting inside. Just reminded himself why this had to be done; _"I have to do this for Harry. To give him at least a chance of survival."_

Margaret would find him, hopefully soon. Draco needed to know Harry was okay. Needed to believe he would be.   
Suddenly the door opened behind him. In the mirror's reflection saw William enter the room.  
“It's time.”- The dementor said.  
Draco nodded.  
His reflection in the mirror copied the gesture, but the blond man there didn´t look like Draco. Not in his makeshift robe, from witch someone had removed the sleeves and hood, linking the rest with a pair of fine silver chains. Surely the Lord had wanted to see his arms, shoulders and neck.  
Lady Margaret had combed his  hair until it fell on his shoulders like a silver cloak. Just like a doll.  
He closed his eyes for a moment to dispel the poor thought, the only sign of weakness to be allowed. Then, let the impassive mask fall, and stood with the elegance and pride only becoming of a Malfoy.  
William, for once, didn´t make any hurtful comments.

Admiration flooded the dementor, spectator of the incredible strength of the pure blood. Draco was an image of royalty. Head high even at the gates of a sentence worse than death.  
William bowed and offered his arm.  
“It's an honor to be your escort.”  
And the gentle hand of the young man leaned against his arm, silently accepting his company to the gibbet.

**oOo**

**(** Margaret)

  
Margaret ran, the music had started, she had to find the Auror before it was to late.

**oOo**

(Harry)

  
Harry listened.

At first almost inaudible , then with more and more strength, a strange sound had begun to flood the hallways. Rhythmic softly howling hissing, an unnerving and melancholic melody, a sound that made him shiver, and raised the hair of his arms. A song that presaged something worse than death, a song made of hopelessness.  
The sound of unknown wind instruments joined the prayer, like the wind on the waves of a storm, like the wind among dead branches  
He held his breath trying to discover its source. Pansy shook by his side. Suddenly the tower seemed even colder.  
A dementor came to the hall they were on, stopping at their gaze. Harry was preparing to attack when he saw it coming closer, but slowly, not threatening, and there was something oddly familiar about it.  
The creature stopped by a window just a few feet from away. The glass became iced, and a skeletal finger began to scratch the surface.  
It was writing.

“I´m Margaret, a friend of Draco. Please, save him.”  
Harry recognized it then. The dementor who had been looking after Draco.   
“Do you know where he is?”  
The creature nodded.  
“Then take us to there.”

**oOo**

(Draco)

  
The music rocked him like a dirge, more clear and engaging as they neared its origin.  
Draco let the notes drop on him like raindrops, calming himself in their beauty. Rocking in their sadness, like that a loving mother, helping him to accept the inevitable, cradling him so he did not cry.  
Allowed for its presence to embrace his mind, and drifted until it was hear so close as only few meters away.  
Down the hall, forged metal double doors appeared, and the dementors on each side opened them for them two. The music swept the hall free of the confining room, and Draco sighed as William led into inside. To the room where they would celebrate.

Candles lit the corners of the great oval that was the place, wherever sunset light did not come to bathe with blood red hue.  
An entire half of the walls were clean glass, no dust clinging to the windows of this chamber like it did in all the rest of the tower. Behind them the sun sank in the stormy sea, like a hot iron in the waves.  
On both sides of the room Dementors lined the walls; so many that Draco doubted missing one inhabitant of the tower was missing. They were singing. A few played strange wind instruments, long stems of resembling faded flowers, bone.  
His gaze drifted down the musicians to the figure presiding over the ceremony; Griever Gryffindor, the Dementor Lord, stood before an altar of stone that seemed to come from the very bowels of the tower, a black bedrock in the exact center of the room. Bright, polished…  
 _"Obsidian."-_ He thought.   
And on the ground beside it, chained to the feet of the dark Lord, was a prisoner he did not recognize. Malnourished and dirty, he was a man of no more than 30 years. Dressed only with the rags considered the prison uniform. Brown hair a tangle on his skull, pale and gaunt, obviously crazy. It was there, on his eyes like that’s of a frightened animal.  

He occasionally pulled the chains linking his arms to the floor, but it was to no avail. Draco felt nauseous.  
The music was dying like the flame of a candle on a sigh, and when it died in a last whisper, the Dementor Lord reached out, and Draco felt William go away.  
The blonde summoned all the will he had left, to endure what he knew had to be done.  
But when he finally started walking discovered that he wasn´t  afraid. He had experienced what love was, and now he knew that no matter what he would always have the memory of the auror inside. Even in the greatest darkness he could close his fingers around that little flame and not be afraid of darkness.

A smile blossomed gently on pale lips.  
Draco did not care anymore. While he could remember the intense color of Potters eyes will not feel alone.  
His fingers were taken on the icy grip of the Lord, and a clawed hand closed around his.  
The voice of the master of the tower came to all who were present.   
“Tonight we are here to receive the last of our brothers. Tonight we are here to see the arrival of Draco.” - A buzz of excitement grew around the room. – “Draco Malfoy tonight will become a dementor.” – The master looked at the blond at his side, but this didn´t look back. Dracos gaze was looking immutable, the image of the proudest nobility.

Griever closed tightly his hand over his, and finally gray eyes looked at him.  
“Now is the time to drink your first soul. Here at your feet it´s the one you who will sacrifice his life, so you can reach a new one.”  
Draco looked at the prisoner.

He was as scared as a mouse in the presence of a hawk. A terrible silence thrived in the room; the Lord had released his hand, all eyes rested on him. He did not want to.  
The Dementor Lord perceived his rejection and his lips brushed his ear, soft and sensual, as he talked.  
“If you don´t not kill him, I will. And then I will send all my servants after the Auror, and when I get him, I'll devour his soul in front of your very eyes, so you can see how life is extinguished from his gaze.” - Whispered cruelly.  
Draco closed his eyes. And knew he would do it.

His heart sank in his chest as he opened his eyes. No choice left.  
And knelt in front of the prisoner, who looked at him, a desperate plea on silent lips. The blond wondered if someone had rendered the man speechless, precisely to prevent him begging. But it was a fleeting though that went away just as quickly as it had come.   
Gently, took the dirty and scratched, haunted face, in his hands, touched it with the tenderness of a brother. Looked straight in the crazy eyes, trying to be reassuring, and the prisoner finally relax under his care.  
“I'm sorry.” - Whispered with soft sweetness, reassuring, sad. He wanted to try and make the man suffer as little as possible. – “I promise I'll be kind, try not to make it hurt too much.” - The prisoner seemed to understand that there was no going back, there was no hope, and just let Draco calm him. – “I know it´s horrible, please believe me, I know.” - felt he had tears threatening to soak his lashes. – “But there is someone I love more than my life, to save him I will become a monster. To save him I will have to kill you.” - A tear finally slipped and fell to the curve of his cheek. – “Please forgive me.”-  Whispered, voice breaking.

The prisoner closed his eyes.  
Their lips met in a kiss.  
It tasted like sadness and pain, but it was warm. That warmth was calling Draco now that he was not fighting the curse anymore, like a wave dragged him in, urging him to the heat, to take it, to make it his, to let it take the pain away.  
He felt a shudder as his worst memories resurfaced inflaming the need to feed. The torture, rape, heinous words, fear for Harry ... ice began falling, making him shake, I was so cold, it hurt so much. Instinctively he seeks the warmth of the memories of the prisoner. A girl laughing, a woman who called, the sunrise over the mountains... one after the other, faster and faster, more and more desperate, until the visions became a blur of warmth that seemed to flood him.  
But it was not enough, the painful memories still were there, increasingly more intense. He felt as if his heart would tear and break, the blood roaring in his veins, everything was spinning. The only thing that was holding him was the prisoner. He slipped his arms around his neck took even more of his essence. Wanting more. But suddenly there were no more memories to drink.  Felt he would die if he could not get something else.  
Then, Draco felt another warm, different from the memories, purer, much more intense. If he drinks it, the pain would disappear.  
He was almost delirious with necessity, but even so feral and thirsty, recognized what it was, the soul of the man. Draco stopped, stopped despite how terribly painful it was, stopped even when his bones creaked and blood became ice. STOPPED. And then, the curse threw a last memory to the front of your mind.  
 _"I love you.” - The voice, broken, sad, lost, made_ __ _Harry stop instantly._  
“Harry... I ... I'm in love with you.”  
“I told you not to call me by my name.” - That was the only answer. The auror did not even look at him, just left.   
The pain cut like a white-hot blade. Sliced away his heart, became acid in his veins.  
And Draco just could not stop anymore.

**oOo**

**(** Harry)

  
The music had died a few minutes ago, everything was too quiet. Just the sound of their footsteps running down the halls disturbed it. Margaret led them down the corners of the tower quickly and anxious, each second more frantic, more frightened.  
Harry also fell it, that something terrible was happening. Could almost breathe it. Prayed they managed to arrive on time. Pansy ran slightly behind him, but did not lose the pace; she seemed to sense it too.  
Finally, they arrived in front a pair of guarded by dementors metal doors.  
He called his magic.  
“Specto Patronum!” - Draco 's smile created a magnificent deer shining like a star, that, like a beast, charged against the creatures.

They fled in panic, and Lady Margaret retired to the end of corridor, also frightened by the patronus but refusing to leave. Just the fact that it was not directed at her, was the thing that allowed her to stay.  
Harry blasted the doors.  
There in the center of the huge room, surrounded by dementors, bathed in the red light of dusk, was Draco.  
In his arms was a prisoner in chains.  
His lips melted into a desperate kiss.  
They parted only a few inches.  
A small ball of light escaped from the lips of the prisoner and brushed Draco’s.  
 _"It's a soul!"_  
“Draco, NO!”  
The little ball of light disappeared between pink lips.  
Draco swallowed.

  
**To be continued.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I have said this already but… I´m sooooo evil. XD  
> Comments will be appreciated. ^^


	19. Devil-1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry felt his anger rise flame like. A fury like never he had felt before, igniting, as if some unknown part of himself had been awakened, and was adding his hatred to his. He saw red.  
> And attacked.

(Draco)

Pleasant warmth slides down his throat, heating his insides.  
Pain disappearing as if never existed, warm stuffing his every fiber, filling his body from head to toe.  
And Draco exhales air he did not know he'd been holding.  
Why had he been so worried? Couldn´t remember... could only feel the soft heavy blanket like sensation that held him. Little by little lies down against the stone, body going loose. He was so tired...  
Then, something stirred on the edge of his awareness.   
A cry? Who could be screaming when everything was fine?  
The blond wanted to ignore it, but something in the cry... made him blink trying to focus in his surroundings.  
Why did it all, look so fuzzy? It was like looking through paper tissue.

And he was so sleepy... was going to close his eyes and be immersed in it in a second, but first, he decided, would see who had cried. His curiosity, strong enough to make Draco hold on for just a minute more.  
Slowly, his surroundings cleared a bit, enough so he could see what was happening;  
All dementors were gazing at the doors. Why? He tried to turn as well, but a dead weight kept him anchored to the floor. He frowned lightly. What…?  
What was on him, seemed to be another chained prisoner. Draco sighed annoyed. Did the man not he realize he was crushing him? Shook the other a bit, trying to make him react.  
But he did not move.  
Exasperated, tried to ask if he could just leave, but his voice refused to work.  
 _"What?"_ A small shard of panic cut inside, disturbing the peace. More and more scared, he managed to turn the man enough to see his face...  
Empty eyes... a dead look.  
“Draco!” - Other piercing scream broke the silence.

Everything started to spin. Peace and calm began to fray. Horrified, the blond struggled to shake off the prisoner, but was so exhausted... yet, managed to crawl out from under him.  
Draco couldn´t breathe, nothing seemed to make sense. What had been that cry? Why was it so familiar? A flash of pain seared his gut, burning like hot coal. With a muffled groan, folded himself in half, leaning his forehead on the cold floor.  
“DRACO!” - That cry again, this time louder. Who was calling? It hurt so very much to remember... Gray eyes gazed toward the door, toward the sound. Breathing turned into little gasps.  
A man with black hair, and green eyes, was looking at him, the Dementors preventing his entry.  
“Harry?” - His whisper was lost in the roar that engulfed his mind.   
Pain gripping his belly, as if he had swallowed acid. He cried.  
The ache spread through his body, taking every corner of it. Cold agony. Burning flames. Poison gnawing at his veins. Finally, Draco collapsed completely on the stone floor, unable to move, unable to breathe. His gaze fixed on Harry for a second, in a silent plea for help.  
A new wave of agony rose engulfing all... the world disappeared on darkness.

**oOo**

**(** Harry)

  
Draco had fallen unconscious but his body continued shaking in pain, his blond fair hair spread around his head, on the ground, like some kind of angelic halo. The white robe, caught in his thighs when he crawled, left bare his long legs. Red sunlight staining blood his light skin.  
The image, made flesh, of a dying angel.

  
Chaos exploded.   
Screams, hisses, bellows... a wild wind rose suddenly, forcing the dementors off of the auror and the female prisoner.  
On the center of the hurricane, Harry was using his magic to make a barrier with witch protect himself and Pansy.   
Her hair and dress, fluttered as sails in the center of such power. The dementors made themselves a dark ring around the barrier. Anxious, angry, eager to taste their souls. Only Harry's magic kept them at bay, and seeing the state he was in... if Potter collapsed, she knew what awaited them both.  
But fear for herself paled at the prospect of losing one of his two best friends. Someone who was like a brother to her, since before she could remember. One of the only two people who made her world.  
She would not give him up!

  
Harry closed his eyes. There was only one way to deal with this pack of monsters.  
He inhaled slowly and deeply, isolating his mind, plunging slowly into memories. He drove from his awareness any other notion; The noise, fear, cold, pain ... The world was dissolving around, crumbling into mere fragments of images and sounds from the past. Each contained a single thing in common, a single person, a single breath, a single spark of love;  
Draco.  
Harry was collecting them carefully, every gesture, every word, every smile, every kiss, every touch of skin against skin. All he loved him for. Forging it all into a force, a shining blade, a perfect diamond.   
“Draco... - opened his eyes. -Specto Patronum!”  
Pansy said later it had been like watching the birth of a star.

Light flooded everything. It poured through the windows making the tower into a perfect beacon, even if only for a minute. The Dementors fled like shadows into the light.  
Harry emanated it, was made of it. Almost insubstantial, about to float. It was like he was not there, like seeing something that only existed in the mind. In his lips the most beautiful soft smile that Pansy had ever seen. Could not help but smile back.  
Then, it happened.  
A darkness deeper than a moonless night, terrible as the most horrible nightmare, rose from nowhere to swallow the pure light.  
Both forces fought, until suddenly the darkness offed the light like a candle is extinguished under a whisper of wind.  
“The Dementor Lord.” – The hiss escaped the lips of the Auror like poison. His eyes alert, his presence suddenly solid and battered again, by her side.  
Pansy moved closer to Harry. There was another creature in the room apart from them and Draco. A Dementor.  
She shivered. The creature... Pansy swallowed, never had the witch felt so dark an aura. Not felt such terror, not even in the presence of Lord Voldemort. She felt her legs fail, and fell to her knees, head down, unable to meet the form of the monster. Something crunched under her.  
"Ice?" - When had the ground frosted?

Gleaming ice covered all.  
Harry staggered under the assault of his aura.  
Gulped some air.  
It was much worse than the previous time he had seen the Lord. Fear hissed furiously in the back of his mind, threatening to overwhelm him, reminding Harry of all and each of his failures, the people who he had failed to save.  
The deaths of his parents, Dumbledore, Sirius, Snape ...  
 _"You are going to lose him, like you lose them. You cannot save him. Go, and at least save your life. Flee."_ An icy whisper took his thoughts, urged him to leave. God, why was he so cold? Could see his breath condensing in the arctic air.  
A groan... it came from the back of the room, from a body sprawled on the floor beside the monster.

"Draco."  
Harry put a hand on his own shoulder... and clawed with all his strength into one of the wounds there. The pain helped him out of the trance, that the aura of the Lord, had tried to submerge him in. He stood firm. Not giving up. Would not run away; Not for his own life, not for his soul. NEVER.  
"I'll get you out of here, wait just a bit, Draco."- Said calmly, sweetly, just for the unconscious blond.   
And adopted a defensive posture, like a big cat on the prowl. His green eyes glowing in the dark.  
The Dementor Lords laughter filled the room. A cruel, icy hiss, that made Harry shudder, and Pansy cringe in horror.  
“I can´t believe this. You are the Auror who Draco has fallen for?” - One filled with acid little laugh, escaped his throat. – “I never thought I would ever see this day.”  
Harry did not let the words affect him. Kept staring at the monster, searching. Because it had to have a weakness. He only needed to find it.   
Griever continued smiling cruelly, unperturbed by the silence of the Auror.  
“But of course you cannot remember it, right? It is the magical essence that witch reincarnates, not the soul.”  
Harry frowned. What was the Lord speaking about?

"Are you trying to distract me?" -Decided that two could play that game.- “I can´t understand what you're speaking about.”- Darkly tried to look interested as he took a step, like meditating, to where Draco was.  
Griever observed and copied the motion, keeping himself between his prey and the auror.  
“Tsh - tsh Trying to distract me? What an attitude for a Gryffindor.” - Admonished him, like a parent would a child.  
“Should I be insulted?” - Raised an eyebrow coolly.  
“You should. For the one who carries the magical essence of Godric Gryffindor, it should be a great insult.” – The monsters almost gentle comment, surprised the dark haired man, but he did not show it.

 _“He thinks I´m Godric Griffindor?”_  
The dementor must be insane.  
Their eyes evaluated each other. Measuring.  
They began to advance, movements being followed, seeking both a breach in the defenses of the opponent. Like a lethal dance of fluency and thinly veiled hatred.  
“So I'm kind of a reincarnation of Gryffindor? Allow me to doubt it. – Harry snorted. Took a new step. Griever followed suit.  
“A, I could recognize that magic anywhere.” - Sucked in air, like he was relishing its taste, which Harry thought, upset, could be very possible. – “It's a shame you're not using even half of its potential.” – The Lords tone was disappointed, but became hurtful as a blade a moment later. – “You lack the ability to rule it that he had. If that power were mine...”  
Harry gave him a smile as sweet as saccharin.  
“From what I understand, you tried to make it yours. And you failed. Am I wrong?” Hermione had told him the story of Lord Dementor.  
Griever felt his anger emerge; the few candles still on were put out on the spot. A cold wave iced all around the room, the furniture, the glass on the windows, the fabric of their robes. Harry felt ice crystals forming in his hair, and on his skin.  
Draco gave a gentle moan of fear in his unconsciousness. That, made the Dark master of the tower, smile.  
“Yes, I failed to get my hands on the power of Gryffindor.” - He said grinning. Evilly. – “But do you know what I did manage to get?” - Stepped closer to whisper conspiratorially. – “The magic of his wife.” - The words soft as silk, full of affection almost forgotten. Had he realized the love put at speaking of her? Harry doubted it. But the warmth faded in hatred a moment later.- “Isn´t it funny, that I have caught your partner twice already?” – And looked significantly, at the fallen on the floor Draco, like a beautiful broken doll.  
Harry felt his anger rise flame like. A fury like never he had  felt before, igniting, as if some unknown part of himself had been awakened, and was adding his hatred to his. He saw red.  
And attacked.

**It will continue.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for cheering me up. ^^ I´m so happy you all look so tense about my evil, evil last cap. Jujuju Don´t worry, the fic will end happy… at the very end. XD Before that we have lots of pain ahead. ;) (I so, love to make Draco suffer. Why can it be? Maybe he looks prettier when he is in pain? Who knows? ^^)  
> Comment?


	20. Devil 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And when the Lord departed from him letting his cum slide down his thighs... All Draco felt, was a broken, hopeless, desire to die.

**Dementor Kiss**

**Chapter 18- Devil-2**

_Harry felt his anger rise flame like. A fury like never he had felt before igniting, as if some unknown part of himself had been awakened and was adding his hatred to his. He saw red. And attacked._

* * *

Lightning, ice, darkness, light; Chaos, destruction… A wild hurricane unleashed by the forces of the two opponents. Harry was not sure about what was happening, he acted on instinct, attacking and defending with brutal efficiency, his magic had never reacted so strong and fast, even with a wand. But the Dementor Lord was not a weak creature either. He attacked with the speed of a scorpion; unpredictable, fast and lethal. Powerful. Maybe he could not call his own magic, but had had centuries to learn how to handle the power of the curse: The darkness, fear, cold... Harry trembled almost convulsively. He felt his energies fail. The wounds, the strains of handling so much power, the blood loss... his body could not give more. Muscles and bones seemed to crack and burn with the effort. Suddenly, he could not stop the next attack. Harry went down under an icy wave that froze the scream on his lungs. The auror couldn´t breathe. He gasped for air trying futilely to take some, convulsed. _"Am I going to die?"_ -His gaze fixed on Dracos limp form, and felt helpless. He should have saved him. He should have taken care of him. And Harry felt the hopelessness, self-loathing, self-hatred start taking his mind... black spots began to dance before green eyes. The Dementor Lord watched it all with a smile. "Good-bye, father." The doors flew open.

**oOo**

Hermione was furious and worried. Harry was left alone to face the Dementor Lord. It was crazy! When she woke up in Rons arms on the area floo of the ministry, Mione had given her friend the rant of his life. How could the red haired man leave his best friend alone?! He did not think about the outcome? But she did stop yelling at Ron, though not to let him escape, but because they had to talk to Kingsley, NOW! The two aurors burst into the office of their friend without knocking, even ignoring the cries of his secretary. Planted palms on the desk and spoke bluntly, as quickly as possible, about the thing that had taken place. "We have to go rescue Harry!" – Mione ended anxious. Kingsley, much more calm and composed, stood from his chair. "Miss Charlotte." – Called for his secretary, who had been wringing her hands without knowing what to do, frozen on the spot. "Yes Mr. Kingsley?" "Please go ask the Auror section to assemble team immediately, we must go to Azkaban." – The minister ordered. His aura of severe inflexibility, making the good woman run to accomplish his command. "Yes, sir. Immediately." The minister picked up his coat and his wand. If what Granger had told him was true, they faced a severe problem that needed to be solved on the spot. Losing the support of the Dementors for a second time... I had seen havoc when the monsters had sided with the dark Lord during the war. And though they could not get out of Azkaban without the object that commanded their presence... it was, still, a situation they could not allow. He must go in person, knew the Dementor Lord would not accept negotiating with anyone else. Charlotte came running back. "The Aurors are waiting on the floo area, sir." "Good work miss Charlotte. Granger, Wesley."- He turned to his two friends. – "Let's get moving." Thanks to Merlin, for the track spell that allowed Aurors to know if there were any of their companions nearby. Without it, they would not have managed to find the way through the tower.

**oOo**

They heard Harrys cry. Eight Aurors, Kingsley, Ron and Mione, ran to open the molten metal doors, and burst inside. The last light of day illuminated the room with its blood red hue. The only standing figure... Hermione gulped. "The Dementor Lord..." - She managed to mutter, against the terror that wanted to choke her.

At her side, Ron took a step back. The other aurors appeared to experience similar reactions. Only Kingsley seemed unperturbed. A muffled groan, her best friends pain, cleared the shock of being in the presence of something so dark for the first time. Hermione looked... and ran. "Harry!" – She ignored Rons attempt to hold her to his side, even if it was a protective gesture, because her other friend need her, now. – "Oh my God. Harry can you hear me?" There was frost on his hair, on his skin, on his clothes... a top his blue lips.

He seemed to be choking, unable to take oxygen. Immediately, she launched one after another several heat spells, one to help the functioning of his lungs and other to close the wounds that had been reopened. Luckily they had been able to recover their wands in the way here. Some of the Dementors having dropped them in their haste to escape the aurors Patronusses. The Dementor Lord ignored Hermiones attempts to save her friend. His eyes fixed on Kingsley. "Minister." – he nodded in recognition.

The man returned the gesture: "Lord Dementor." "Can I know why are you in our tower? This is forbidden territory for you, wizards." Kingsley did not miss the slight angle of the hood, pointing at Harry. "We know, and hope you accept our apologies. We have only come for one lost Auror."- Set in stone, his face only reflected seriousness. "The Auror ... – Griever looked at Harry, slumped on the floor against the curly haired woman who was trying to save him. – He broke the treaty. I demand the man be punishment accordingly." - Darkness inside the room became a little deeper. His calm tone fooled no one. Not with such had a lethal background hiss. "I will personally address his lack of discipline." - Harry had stupidly breached a rule set in stone. The Dementor tower was inviolable territory. - "But he was just here on official duty, trying to find an escaped prisoner, that I see is here. It's not him Mr. Malfoy?" –

Draco, unconscious at the feet of the Lord was still shaking. Harry may have done wrong coming here, but it was not on a whim.

"Taking prisoners from their cells without authorization is also punishable." – The minister gave the dementor a cold look. "Mr Malfoy can hardly be called a prisoner. Tonight will end its transformation into dementor. I thought it would be easier for him if he was with his own people."- He said gently. The message clear; Draco was his. Kingsley nodded.

"So I was reported by auror Granger. However, to avoid misunderstandings, you should have informed the authorities before taking him from his cell." Griever nodded.

"Yes, of course. I should have, but in the joy of finding another of us I forgot completely." Hermione glared. Ask? How could that monster be lying so blatantly? She opened her mouth to speak, but stopped at Kigsleys warning gaze. "I understand perfectly. Can we then, just assume this was an unpleasant misunderstanding?"- He offered his hand in a clear gesture of business, and the Lord shook it closing their agreement. "Of course minister. But I would, _appreciate_ , for your Aurors not to return and break into our home." - Hissed a veiled threat. Kingsley nodded steel like.

"Of course."- He turned to the Aurors . – "Auror Packer, auror Wilson, help Auror Grager with the transportation of Auror Potter. Immediately they were quick to pick up their unconscious partner. At last, he took in the presence of a woman huddled in the corner. She seemed another prisoner. "Auror MacFray, collect the woman." – The man was quick to help Pansy, still in shock, to rise. "We will retire then." - had already gotten what they wanted. "Have a nice day minister." - Hissed with a venomous smile Griever. "Same to you Lord Dementor." – Kingsley replied with a hard look. They left the tower abandoning Draco there. Nothing could be done for him, and trying would have broken the treaty. Kingsley knew it too well. Draco was no longer human, no longer was his welfare responsibility of the Ministry. Or so he tried to believe, while he looked away from the prostrated on the ground boy. Guilt hissing inside his breast.

**oOo**

With the Aurors finally gone, the last rays of sun on the horizon slowly being extinguished; the luminous disk swallowed by the raging sea. In just a moment, the true appearance of Draco would begin to emerge, soaked by the first rays of the cold moon. Griever placed the blond on the obsidian-made altar. The polished black stone, contrasting beautifully with white skin and silver hair. Almost tenderly, the Lord brushed a nearly uncolored hair strand that had fallen over Dracos forehead. "Soon, very soon, you will be mine Draco." Yes, but first, the ceremony that his _father_ had interrupted, had to be completed. They were to welcome the newest member of the tower, see him be born. Griever stepped over to the window and opened the huge glass panels. The incipient night breeze quivered on his robe. "Brothers,- he said, voice cold as ice, strong as sea currents- come, appear at my call."- The Dementors hidden on the prison corners, heard, and felt, the call –"Born will be the last of us!" - Jubilation swept their spectral bodies – "Come to witness it, come to accept him in our midst!" –Griever began to move, back to the man sprawled on the altar –"Shall we receive him in our arms!" - And a welcome hiss rose through Azkaban.

The last dementor would be born. Everyone wanted to see his awakening. They came as a wave of shadows, one by one, lighting the candles, igniting the incense stalks. They bringed water bowls, soaps, oils and perfumes, that were more than four centuries old. Moth-eaten silks and silver-handled brushes on their skeletal hands, as they filled the circle surrounding the altar, watching the young man, taking in every detail of his current form, knowing that soon it would change forever, holding it in memory.

The sun had gone. The moon was rising from her sleep. The silver orb made its appearance through the clouds, the cold light of its rays poured into the room through the windows, danced in the rings that made the incense smoke swayed with the orange light of the candles, and finally, spilled over the present on the altar... the inert body of Draco. It bathed his body accentuating the pale shade of his skin, shining on his hair. For a moment, it seemed like nothing would happen... Until a scream was torn from the blond, and the sound echoed on the stone walls. An inhuman howl that made the prisoners quiver in their cells. The last sound of a dying soul, a cry that wasn´t heard in Azkaban in four centuries. Draco opened his eyes. Pain. Pain. Pain. PAIN. He had never felt anything like this, never believed that such suffering could exist. He shouted again with all his might, even if his vocal cords were broken could not stop. His flesh seemed to be melting. His bones breaking and reforming to make something different. His body changing in ways Draco could not even imagine, could not stand, could not take, could not... Gray eyes widened. He squirmed desperately, back arched so much his spine creaked like it would break. Draco howled through his bleeding throat. The pain intensified. It was as if something ... something different to his meat, was trying to merge with his blood and other fluids, nerves and muscles, bones… It was too much. His mind screamed unable to take so much horror, he would go crazy if it didn´t stop. Suddenly an icy mantle fell upon his conscience, and thankfully, finally fell unconscious. Draco went limp. The moonlight swirled over his body, as small faintly luminous particles, coldly reflecting on the polished obsidian as ghostly fireflies. More and more of those minuscule light balls came, forming a thin veil like spider web on Dracos body, slowly solidifying, making it thicker, until it weaved a robe that covered him entirely. The hood over his face, every inch of skin enclosed. The Dementors looked at the process, almost in a trance. Under that eerie cocoon everyone knew that the body was changing. They had seen him suffer and agonize as his magic merged with his body, now it was his souls turn. Within minutes, the light would be extinguished and the fabric would become black as night. The process would be complete. Dracos body would be mutated by the absorbing of the sins of his soul, and it would remain that way forever after. The same body for how long he existed... the same body for eternity. The fabric light slowly died. Extinguished in the darkness... A low hiss, barely present, then another, then more, rose in the dementor circle; curious and puzzled sounds. The dementors whispered among themselves. "White ..." "His robe is white." "What does it mean?" "Why only him?" "Malfoys robes... are white." Only the Dementor Lord remained silent. On his lips, under the hood, there was a predatory, full of satisfied cruelty, smile. _Yes... everything was going as he had planned._ "Be silent." – the Lord ordered coldly. No need to raise his voice, since the dementors fell silent at once.

Draco shivered slightly. I hurt all over. Every little movement was agony. He was so exhausted... but the voice of the Lord Dementor penetrated the mist on his mind, ordering his awakening, and he couldn´t disobey. Draco opened his eyes. _Harry...-_ Thinking about his bright green eyes, helped him gather the little strength he had left. His eyelids barely parted. From his position sprawled on the altar, Draco could see a mass of dementors just a few meters away.

'Rise, Draco.' - The Dark Lords voice echoed for him. Exhaustingly, almost powerless, he turned his head to look at his new master. If before the creature had been impressive, now... now he could feel the aura of power around his frame like something tangible; a layer of darkness blacker than night itself. It was attractive, horrible and suffocating at once. It choked Draco without even trying. He trembled like a leaf. Something within him was telling his mind to obey. He felt like a puppet, and the Dementor Lord was the one who pulled the strings. The blond placed his palms on the stone to hold in to it, and tried to obey. The very fact of moving made him nauseous. He gasped and attempted to sit up, but his arms quivered and failed him. He collapsed. The Lord hissed. 'Can´t you even complete a simple order?' - The contempt in his voice was all encompassing. – 'I take it then that you don´t want to continue protecting the Auror?' Draco felt his breath stop at the threat. No, Harry wouldn´t be killed for something so trivial, right? It wasn´t his fault he was so exhausted. He looked up... and saw that the Lord was smiling sadistically.

 _He wants an excuse to kill him! Now that I'm one of them does not need Harry alive._ But he also knew that the monster would not break his word, he was sure of it. His noble blood would not let him. While Draco obeyed, Griever wouldn´t touch Harry. He had to get up! Harrys green eyes, his gentle smile... gave the new dementor the strength he needed to get up, even when his every muscle resented the treatment, and he thought he would faint. But he forced his body to function despite the agony, and while trembling and convulsed, managed to sit on the altar.

His breathing came fast, like right after a marathon. Everything was spinning. He thought he would vomit, felt cold sweat ran down his temple. There was a sweet smell in the air, Draco realized. It came from the burning incense around the room. It was night. Moon beams and candle light bathed all dementors of Azkaban; a crowd of night-black, tattered, spectral robes; skeletal hands and ghostly whispers that seemed to come from every hood. But Dracos focused attention was on the monster at his side; The Dementor Lord.

He could hardly breathe in the darkness that surrounded the creature, coughed violently. Dizziness came over him and he had to lay hands on the stone just to hold upright. 'Withdraw your hood.' – Griever ordered.

How much would Draco be able to resist? How much longer Draco believed he could protect the Auror? It was not like now that Potter was out of Azkaban, Griever could hurt him, but the blond didn´t know that. So… how much more he would take? The Lords gaze nailed itself to the whites hood, in anticipating of what would be underneath; wasn´t entirely sure of what kind of changes had taken place in the man. The gnawing hunger of wanting to know, sharp inside. He watched as elegant pale trembling hands, rose to remove the cloth that covered... The hood slipped and fell on his back. Moonlighting. The hair that slid gently to his shoulders was like moonlight. So fair, so beautiful. It had a slight luminescence of its own, as if every strand had absorbed some moonlight and now it shone faintly in each lock. His skin was porcelain-like, perfect fragile and white, as if the man really were a doll. But what really caused the chorus of whispers that rose around the room like a wave, was his face. If you asked a master artist to paint the face of the deepest, most broken, sadness, he could only make a shadow of his portrait. All the pain, love, and grief, had tinted in the most beautiful way his features. His gray eyes were the color of rain and gloom. Like someone had distilled the very essence of sadness to pour into the depths of his irises. Delicate mauve circles as watercolor stains had been forever imprinted on the skin around them; a makeup of tears and sleepless nights. Gentle hollow cheeks. Long silver eyelashes, to ensure a look able to make hearts weep. And lips made for sighs and whispers, so delicate, red and moist as camellia petals; the flower of the dead, the flower of sadness, the flower that, even when it falls from the tree, is still beautiful. The Dementor Lord felt, for the first time in its existence, a slight, barely present, pang in his chest. He had never seen anything so absolutely beautiful and fragile. Dracos skin was so thin, his eyes so large and vulnerable, he looked so lost... so small and fragile... Something swirled inside his breast, like a fish swimming lazy. _What was that?_ He frowned. But it seemed it wasn´t something to worry about. The strange feeling did not cause any other desire than to take him to his bed. Something that Griever was going to do nonetheless. So the Dark Lord dismissed the sentiment as unimportant.

Draco could barely stand. He trembled uncontrollably. The Dementor Lord knew he would soon collapse, lifted his face to the sky. The ceremony had to be completed. He raised his arms as an act of prayer, moonlight bathed him with his icy glare. Grievers dark aura languidly waved around, as in response to an invisible disturbance of the air. It started as a low whisper, and with increasing force, the hiss of the dementors began to rise, interlacing and forming a painful melody of frost; a death song, a hymn of welcome. And when the voice of the Lord of the Tower joined the melody, all the dementors fell down before him. Draco felt dizzy, rocked by the song. Each note seemed to intertwine with him; petted and cooed him like a lullaby. The Lord approached the altar, until he was before Draco, only centimeters away. _What was going on?_ Griever drew from his tunic a silver ceremonial dagger. Its curved blade glistened. Draco did not even react to the danger. Everything suddenly seemed so hazy... But when the blade slid the Lords wrist, spilling black as oil blood, he finally found his voice. 'Wha...' - He could not move, could not look away. The music seemed to be tying him to place. He tried to resist but he felt like a puppet, could not even really try. 'Lick it.' –Stained fingers offered Draco the vital fluid that had crept up to them as sinister black streaks; Blood. The song became more powerful, more urgent. Before he knew it, his lips were half parted... his tongue touching the icy skin. The sticky substance was… he didn´t know ... didn´t know… He couldn´t...

The world tilted sharply. Draco fell into darkness.

**oOo**

(Draco)

He was weak, could not move, could not hear the music… there was soft cloth against his cheek, arms around his body; the sound of a heartbeat under his ear. Someone was carrying him. Draco wanted to open his eyes and see who it was, but he was so tired... 'William close the door behind you and stay out guarding it. I don´t want anyone bothering us.'

He knew that voice.

The one holding him was the Dementor Lord.

Barely Draco heard the other dementor nod and then the creak of the closing door. Finally, he managed to get make his silver eyelashes to shudder, opening them to reveal irises like rain. Draco blinked.

The powdered glass, the huge marble fireplace carved with roaring lions, the shelves full to the brim with ancient volumes lined up on each wall. The sofa area around the tea table, the couch, the hundreds of candles that could barely illuminate the space... and the gigantic four posted bed surrounded by red velvet curtains… were impossible to mistake. This were the Dark Lords rooms. Even so, he was not nervous, not frightened.

Draco felt himself be deposited on the big bed, but could not move. Anyway, the fluffy mattress was stuffed with feathers, and he was so very tired... The slytherin sighed, letting his body relax by degrees. It was so nice to rest his battered body on something more comfortable than stone...

'So you're awake.' –said the one who had been transporting him.

He nodded to show that he was awake. The Dementor Lord seemed pleased by the gesture.

'That´s good, I did not like the idea of you being unconscious during our first night together.' – The gently displayed wish, more terrifying than the statement itself, finally entered the fog around Dracos mind, bringing growing panic that threatening to drown his mind.

Draco forced himself to take a breath, to inhale more deeply. With difficulty, he managed to control himself. He had known what was expected of him, and had been willing to do it to save Harry; was not going to back down now, not after everything he had already sacrificed. And it wasn´t like he hadn´t suffered something like it before, at Tomas hands... Draco swallowed and recomposed the mask of indifference from earlier. He could barely speak, let alone move... it hurt all over. It was going to hurt more... he knew it, but was prepared. Lying in bed as a sacrifice to the monster… Draco stopped being afraid. What could this monster make him that he had not suffered already? There was only one reason still, for wich to dread the oncoming intimacy. He didn´t ... didn´t want to forget the feeling of Harry, the sound of his voice, the way he had looked when they made love; so warm, so passionate... Draco knew that sooner or later, under the constant rubbing of another skin, it all would eventually fade and be forgotten ... and he just wouldn´t be able to move forward if that happened. But he would cling to the memories, remember for how long his mind could, because when he finally did forget Harry ... he would die. He could feel it. The memories, the love for the heroic green eyed auror, were the light that kept at bay the darkness that threatened to swallow Draco Malfoy, when they were gone... the blond would cease to exist.

'Look at me.'

Unable to disobey, Dracos long lashes lifted, revealing a sadness that stole Grievers breath for a moment. Draco was beautiful. He stroked his cheek. Did not even know why he suddenly was feeling the desire to reassure the little white.

'I will be careful. If you don´t resist I will not hurt you. Submit and I give you my word that it will not hurt.' - The quiet seriousness in his voice almost calmed Draco. – 'Are you going to behave?' - A claw brushed his cheek as a warning. The white just nodded, had no strength for more.

'Good.' – The monster began to undress him, removing the pale tunic with slow care. Letting his fingers gently caress the exposed skin... he realized that Draco was shaking almost imperceptibly, trembling. But didn´t stop; finished removing the cloth, sliding it down white frail legs, letting it fall on the nightstand beside the bed. The Lord absorbed every detail of Dracos naked body; drank from the sight of his slender legs, svelte shoulders, fragile clavicles, his very narrow waist... pink nipples, sharp hips, thighs... His white skin almost seemed to glow under the amber candlelight; a jewel fallen on the gold embroidered, red velvet, quilt. A creature made of porcelain, crystal, silver and sadness. He seemed very fragile... and the expression on his face...; pity, resignation, determination... offering no resistance... Something lazy twisted inside Grievers chest again. In an almost tender gesture, the Devil brushed a lock of silver hair from a pale cheek.

"I will tell you what will happen.' – His almost reassuring voice eased some of the tension that had Draco in its clutches. – 'I've been waiting too long and lack the patience to take more time, so there will be no preambles. You will not resist and will not complain.' – He felt the small body tense again under his hand still resting on Dracos cheek. – 'But you have permission to weep.' - Said almost gently, and stroked the soft skin tenderly. – 'If at any time you cannot take it... say it.' – The Dark Creature surprised himself by making this offer. But he discovered that for some reason the idea of damaging more the fragile man... was not as appetizing any more.

Draco nodded again.

Why would the Lord offer this to him? He didn´t understand. But right now he would take whatever consolation he could. The Lord Dementor retired his own hood, and began to undress. The fabric sliding down his body... until the tunic was just black folds at his feet. Draco gasped. That... That was going to be in it? ... panic threatened to make him cry. But it was not just panic right? He could not catch his breath. The Dementor Lord was not a monster... he was a demon. He was... Merlin! He shivered. The air came out his lips in hysterical small puffs. The first thing he saw was his skin. It was red and black, thick and scaly like a snakes, stretched over wildly defined muscles. The creature could crush him with one hand. Through long black as coal hair, Draco glimpsed his face; black petroleum eyes without pupils... or irises... just a deep darkness that threatened to swallow him whole. They looked unfathomable, terrifying, attractive, diabolical. The blond could not look away. His features were demonic... but somehow... darkly... exotic. When his lips parted Draco saw two rounds of sharp fangs.

'ARE YOU AFRAID?' - Hissed the devil. Draco shuddered but did not speak. Convulsive, he made himself nod. His vocal cords unable to work. The Lords hissing laughter wrapped him, intoxicating. The creature wasted no time in returning to the bed, climbed his body until Draco was trapped under him. The blond could feel the soft scales against his own skin. Chest to chest, hips to hips. His heart skipped a beat when his hard member brush his own lower abdomen. Draco gazed to the site, unwilling to look, but Griever took his chin and made him. He gasped. Those dark eyes... trapped him... were so profound he feared drowning in them. The being smiled, sharp teeth gleaming in the candle light. And his lips descended on Dracos in a possessive brutal kiss. The slytherin felt fingers stroke his inner thigh and the surprise made him open his lips. The tongue of the Dark Lord swallowed the small sound of protest, and slid into his mouth conquering it. Draco groaned.

 _Oh Merlin, Oh Merlin, Oh Merlin. -_ He did not know what the reason was, but his saliva ...Oh Merlin! It was like an aphrodisiac; It was sweet and sticky like candy, and Draco just seemed unable to get enough of it. He discovered himself responding to the kiss, even though not really wanting to. _What´s happening to me?_ -He felt the panic rise again, recognized the feeling of helplessness, lack of control over his body, the not really his, desire,... it was almost like being under a imperius. Their lips parted briefly, almost touching, could feel the devils taste in his mouth, and the notion caused him disgust and pleasure at the same time.

'Do you feel it?- said the Lord- Now you belong to me. Like all the other dementors of Azkaban.' – Griever laughed diabolically at Dracos uncomprehending stare. – 'A, yes... the curse requires the dementors obey the most powerful of them. A measure to keep us, more... controlled. We could say. It`s easier if you have someone to organize the monsters for you, right?' - His eyes sowed plainly what he thought of the ministry; Disgust. – 'Especially if you can handle that one. Yes. The magic item in the ministry allows them to manipulate me to some extent.' - Gently stroked one of Dracos pink nipples, and the blond could not suppress the sigh of pleasure that escaped his lips, even if he hated himself for it. – 'But it also gives me a great power over you; the dementors below me. And you, Draco, that also have my blood in your veins... - Almost tenderly kissed his cheek. - Just cannot deny me.' The horror enlarged Dracos pupils. 'No ...' - He felt those fingers return to stroking him; further up his inner thigh until they touched is entrance. He moaned, sobbed, did not enjoy it ... but could not help the pleasure raking his veins like fire. He felt so disgusted by himself, by his weakness, by his inability to resist. For wanting it, even against his will. An attack of nausea threatened to make him vomit, and he bit his lip so hard that blood slid down them, bright red. The Lord took some droplets with the tip of a finger, observing their bright colour, and a leer flourished in his mouth.

'Stop. Pain`s not going to help.'

When Draco finally did obey, Griever slipped a bloodstained finger over his lips, dyeing them bright crimson and sensual. He smiled.

'Beautiful. But I can´t wait more.'

He took a jar from the nightstand; a look-trough glass bottle, that seemed to contain a honey-like substance. When uncorked, a pleasant scent of flowers filled the room. And Draco held his breath. Not for nothing he had always liked potions. He immediately recognized what it was: pixie nectar. A substance with aphrodisiac and healing qualities, that was made with the honey those tiny fairy collected. He felt the Dementor Lord separate his thighs and lift his hips, positioning himself.

'No... enough.' - He did not want it, could not want it.

Draco squirmed, but his body did not have more energies left to try and scape. The Lord simply took a sip from the bottle... and kissed him. The sticky substance filled Dracos mouth. He refused to swallow. But the devil didn´t end the kiss until the spell overpowered his will, and the nectar slid down his throat like pure sweet sugar. Immediately, Draco lost all control over his body, over his thoughts and desires. He squirmed desperately under the other. Although his whole body hurt, suffering was overshadowed by the burning wave of desire that took him. He needed more contact, needed to feel him inside his body. His insides ached from the void of Grievers absence. 'Please.' - Groaned in agony. He screwed the dark lord with his arms and legs, in a desperate plea for sex.

The Lord laughed darkly and kissed him again. Possessing, claiming, marking him with liquid intensity. Draco s fingers tangled in his hair pulling him even nearer, mad with desire.

'Do you want me inside you?' – An almost mocking whisper stroking his earlobe. A shiver of pleasure ran through Draco like electricity. He could not wait more, needed him, needed him so much... The desire was so intense it hurt. It was driving him crazy.

'Please ... please ... yes.' - rose his hips, rubbing against the others member. Inside, his heart cried, cracked, desperate tears slid down his cheeks even as his body arched in pleasure at the first touch of cock. The Lord pushed. Draco screamed. An agonized sound that was half moan half tortured howl. 'Do not resist. You will suffer less.' – The devil kept pushing, banging, possessing.

Draco didn´t know anymore what he was feeling; pain or pleasure. Each thrust was an agony, a pleasure, a torture. His throat felt torn from screaming so hard. Nails embedded firmly on the shoulders of the monster. Why? To remove him, or to keep him? He had forgotten.

Griever did not seem to mind, even when black blood began to slide down his chest from the wounds opened by Dracos nails. His thrusts were becoming more powerful, more frantic... it seemed that his resistance had no limit. Draco could not help but weep, even when from his lips only fell passionate moans. The Dementor Lord arched, rammed one last time sinking entirely into him ... and exploded. Draco followed in a wave that broke him inside. And when the Lord departed from him letting his cum slide down his thighs... All Draco felt, was a broken, hopeless, desire to die. 'Harry forgive me, please.'

**It will continue.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um… I know I have said this already but… I´m EVIL. Very, very evil XD But don´t hate me there will be a happy ending… somehow. XD
> 
> Comments will be appreciated.


	21. Curse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco is gone, Harry needs him back.

It smelled of potions, herbs, disinfectant...

_"A hospital."_

He had been wounded enough times not to recognize the characteristic smells now.

“Harry, are you awake?”  Hermione's voice.

The first thing that came to Harrys mind was that Ron and her must have gotten help in time, since he was still alive. He smiled faintly. Would Draco be in the hospital, or would he have been left in any of the cells at the Aurors headquarters? He was still a prisoner after all.

But not for long.

The auror was determined to reopen the Malfoy case. He had been there when Draco had been unable to kill Dumbledore, and if the blonde had not been able to commit murder, how bad could the crimes in his record be? Surely not so terrible that he would have to stay in Azkaban any longer. He had been imprisoned for seven years already, God!

And if Harry had to use his stupid reputation to pull some strings... he would.

Draco was not going back to that hell again.

Green, determined, eyes, opened.

Immediately he recognized the white walls of the clean, quiet, Auror medical rooms. Beside the bed and waiting for him to wake up, Hermione and Ron were seated on identical sterile chairs.

As they realized he was awake, Mione hugged him, just like every other time he woke up in medical. He smiled against his friend’s bushy hair.

“I'm fine Hermione, but if you keep squeezing me so I´m going to lose my breath.”  He laughed when Mione quickly pulled away to give him some room.

“Hey, I 'm glad to see you're okay. But let me call the nurse just in case”  Ron offered with his usual grin.

“No, no. It´s not necessary Ron, really, I just feel bruised, nothing else.”  It was great to be out of Azkaban, and it reflected in his mood.

Sunlight streamed through the window, brightening the room with light and warmth, something he had missed dearly. Some birds could be heard singing outside, along with the noise of people walking down the street. Harry had never realized how much alive the world really was, until he had to leave it behind for a month.

It felt peaceful…

“Where´s Draco?”  He asked and looked around expecting to see the white dementor resting at one of the other beds. Harry had suddenly remembered that, even if he himself had been the mainly wounded one, Draco had not been in good shape either. Good thing they were now safe.

He could not wait to take Draco outside. The young blonde would love to be able to enjoy the sun again, maybe even some quidditch?  Although it would have to be somewhere private ... Harry didn´t think that a dementor would be welcomed at a quidditch field.

A dementor…

He had seen Draco swallow the soul, the moment he let go of humanity, but he could not stop loving him, even when Draco was no longer human. Harry had been in love with the white dementor way before knowing he was a man, and his feelings where not so weak as to change now. But surely there must be a cure. He was sure of it, and if not ... well they'd have to figure out some way to communicate, since Harry was not going to give him up, and unfortunately he did not understand the dementors language.

He looked at his friends expectantly, when a few seconds had passed, and they hadn´t yet answered his question.     Ron and Hermione were looking at each other, like deciding which of the two should give the news. Harry frowned, he knew those silent communications, always meant bad news.

“Harry ... Draco 's not here.” Hermione began. Her almost pleading look, more than enough for the dark haired auror to think the worst.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, steading himself, before gazing at her again.

“Is he dead?” his voice felt icy and numb. This was the method he used to guard his feelings, when a case was particularly bloody. Handling the situation in a more professional way, made it easier for him to talk about the horrors he had seen. Inside, his heart felt about to stop.

“No, he isn´t” Hermione rushed to reassure him. Harry didn´t dare suck in a breath of relief; he knew something almost as horrible must have happened for Mione to put that drained face. Guilt and worry could be read in the way she looked away, the way her fingers played with the hem of her coat ... “Draco is not here ... because he´s still in Azkaban.”

Harry gritted his teeth. What were they thinking to have Draco abandoned in that hell? Did they not know the kind of monster the Dementor Lord was?

But before he opened his mouth Ron intervened.

“It was the only thing we could do. Malfoy is no longer human, is a dementor, and dementors cannot get out of Azkaban. Kingsley had enough getting the Dementor Lord,” Ron shuddered just thinking about the creature, “to let you go. He wanted to kill you!”  The condescending tone Ron spoke about Draco... as if he really cared very little what the young prisoner had been abandoned... infuriated Harry.

“And that's supposed to make leaving Draco there good?!” He sat up. Could not but throw his friend a look that said, plainly, how much his words disappointed him.

“Merlin, it´s Malfoy we are speaking about!” The redhead rolled his eyes. “Not some unjustly imprisoned innocent!”

“Well I don´t see the difference! He has already paid more than enough for letting the Death Eaters into Hogwarts! And to my knowledge he has not committed any other crime!” Both men looked furious. It looked like sparks were about to erupt between them any second now.

“Enough!” Hermione stood from the chair to put herself between them. It took her a few seconds of glaring, but finally they let the pull drop.

With one last scowl, both returned to their seats; Harry to the bed and Ron to his chair. At last, Hermione let her worry show as she turned to her best friend.

“Harry, I know you believe that Draco is the only one for you.” She began softly, reassuringly. “But you have to realize that it's over. Draco is not even human anymore.”  Mione laid her hand on Harrys shoulder trying to calm him, even though he tried to resist the gesture. Harry didn´t want to hear it, but Mione didn´t let herself be put aside. Her friend had to hear what she had to say, and understand the truth of it. “The Dementor 's Curse has no cure. The case we were sent about is solved. It's over.” She tried to make him see, against the pleading look on his face.  “You did everything you could, you can´t do anything else. I know it sounds cruel... but you have to let it go. Let Draco go.” She finished as delicately as she could.

Harry looked away from his two friends.

“Harry…”  They could not see his face.

“Leave me alone.” Harry said. His voice had an empty dye that concerned them both. Ron opened his mouth to ask... but Mione put a hand on his arm urging him to shut up.

“Okay ... we will be back in a hour. Maybe them you will feel better.”  She whispered to her friend.

Ron and Hermione left the room. Harry needed space, or so she told Ron when he asked her.

But what Harry really wanted was to forget this entire nightmare.

 

**oOo**

It had been a month, a month without Draco.

The room was a chaos of books stacked on the table, the chairs, the floor ... most of the books were so old that, if not for the spells that bound them together, they would have fallen into rotten waste powder many years ago.

Papers smudged with notes, written and rewritten, outlined, circled and stuck to the walls. Tests, spells... were scattered all over the surface of the desk. Several leaves had fallen from it and landed on the floor.

In the chair, before it all, a man sat lost in thought, holding a feather between ink-stained fingers.

His wrinkled and somewhat dirty clothes, much messier than usual filthy hair, the dark circles that outlined his eyes... all this spoke of the long nights without sleep and the waking hours devoted to the search of something that could help him save Draco.

When Kingsley had refused to help, even forbidding him entry to Azkaban, saying it was for his own good… that it was too dangerous. Harry had only remembered the pain filled face of Draco, when he had abandoned him on the cell as the blonde confessed his love… and he could not take Kingsleys words and let it rest, the ache of his heart too great to ignore, even if he had wanted to do so.

He had tried discussing the pact of the Dementors with the minister, but Kingsley had made the impossibility of making any exception for the fragile blond, hard and very clear. That Draco was a dementor and no longer the ministry’s responsibility. That if Harry tried to enter Azkaban again the barriers would prevent it.

Kingsley had cancelled his prison pass, according to him, for his own good. Harrys best chance was to forget Draco.

The auror had been furious, but he had not given up, and put in body and soul to the search of a cure for the curse.

He had read all what he had been able to find on it. Both in the Hogwarts library, thanks to Macgonnagal, and in all the books he had managed to buy, as well as in the old diary of the guard from where Tomas had taken the curse.

But there was no sign of a cure. Very little information had survived the initial sweep mad by the ancient wizards, and what was left was incomplete. And anyway, all traces of information seemed to agree that there was no cure.

The changes in the body, magic and soul, during the mutation process, were too arduous for it to be reversed.

He took a potion from the crate at his right and he gulped it down. The headache that had been starting to harass him disappeared, but not the worry, not the pain in his heart.

He felt empty, lost and grey.

The afternoon light flooded the room through the large windows, giving everything a golden and warm colour. And yet, it was ironic that, because of one man, he would have felt much more alive in the shady atmosphere of Azkaban, than here.

Every day Harry got up with determination to find the cure. But it was getting increasingly difficult to maintain hope. A month was too long a time. So much so for Draco to be safe… or even healthy. The Dementor Lord...  he did not even want to think about what this monster could have done to the fragile blond.

He took the guards worn diary and opened it again.

Phrases _like no cure, eternal Curse_ , or _a punishment reserved only for the worst criminals_ ,  seemed to want to jump off the pages laughing at him.

"It's been a month, and I'm no closer to a solution now than I was at the start."

A wave of hopelessness wanted to swallow him but he managed to resist.

Hermione had come almost daily to aid in the research, when she was not working on her own, and tried almost daily too, to make Harry pay attention to anything else besides Draco and the curse, without success.

Even he could not fully understand his love for Malfoy. But it was love, right? He couldn´t stop thinking about him every hour of every day and night.

The auror missed the white dementor desperately.  Without Draco by his side life was missing something vital. Without his shy voice, delicate figure, tenderness, love and funny irony... Harry felt devoid of life.

The shy blonde had entered his life without being called, and suddenly Harrys whole world had been completely misplaced. Draco had given it a whole new meaning, had made Harry feel things he never thought he would come to feel again. Harry could die to save anyone, but Draco made Harry want to live for someone.  He made the prospect of dying for an innocent not worth it, not if it meant being separated from him; an idea that Harry, submerged in the hero role everyone expected from him, had never even entertained until now.

No one had ever made him appreciate life enough to hold on to it, rather than risk it for helping another. Draco crafted his will to live into something stronger than it had ever been, just the idea of breathing beside him made Harry happy.

And now that he had lost him... it seemed that nothing had meaning any longer.

Harry leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes tightly, preventing the escape of the tears that wanted to spill across his cheeks.

“Mourning is not going to solve anything.” He straightened and stared at the paper. "There has to be some way to get him back. Has to be!" Harry began to review the text again, he had already read it many times over the weeks. He could recite it from memory, and had studied it from every possible angle, could not have missed anything…

It had no weaknesses, there was nothing that he had neglected to review in it, the curse was unshakable.

The Curse of the dementor was perfect.

The sound of the barriers being opened alerted him to the arrival of Hermione. He did not want to see anyone, but maybe she 'd learned something new. Although Harry knew it was unlikely, he came down the stairs to the living room where his friend was waiting.

Mione tried to smile as he entered, but failed miserably.

“Good morning Harry.” She said dejected at the end. In her hands she held the thick notebook where she had been taking notes about the curse.

“Good morning Hermione... I guess” Harry dropped himself in one of the overstuffed chairs, telling his friend to do the same. “Would you like something to eat? I have not eaten yet.”

Mione nodded. “I could use some tea.”

Harry asked Kreacher, who brought them sandwiches and a teapot, before turning to her again.  “Did you learn anything new?”

Hermione shook her head sadly. “We've been looking for a month and we are no closer to a solution than we were at first. Even the Gryffindor diary said the curse has no cure” She looked pleadingly at Harry. “You have not left the house, not spoke with anyone but me or Kreacher since returning home. You dwell on this all the time. Harry… I know you don´t want to, but please, you have to forget Draco. You cannot be with him, and thinking about it only hurts you. Please Harry… you have to at least try.”

The dark haired Auror refused, his expression tortured.

“I can´t. Hermione ... I cannot even explain it. But ...” Again he refused, could not find the words to convey everything he was feeling.

She put her hand on his friends one, offering him support.

“I'm sorry ... if only it had not been completed yet ... maybe the curse could be reversed.”

Harry just nodded. If only Draco had not become a dementor...

They did not even belong to the same species now. For Draco and he could to be together, he would have to be...

“A dementor.” Harry muttered.

He had thought about it sometimes throughout the month. But Draco had been for so long in Azkaban, had suffered so much… he deserved to get out of there! However it was becoming clear that that was not going to be. And since Harry was not about to give him up...

He knew it was dangerous, knew he would have to fight the Dementor Lord if he wanted Draco safe, and knew that the chances of dying in the transformation process were very high if the curse was not executed to perfection. But he also knew that all this was worth it, because living without Draco was not an option he could even contemplate.

Harry looked up suddenly.

Hermione gave him a puzzled look.

“Harry?”

“Hermione. I need your help, I can´t do this alone.” Took her hand and stared at her seriously.

Mione frowned slightly.

“You know I 'll help you if I can. But why would you need my help?” She had a feeling she wasn´t going to like what was going to be said.

“I need you to cast the curse of dementor... on me.”

"WHAT? "

 

**oOo**

(Draco)

It had been a month.

A month...

He buried his head on the crook of his arms resting on his knees.

The sheets around him were marred by unrest and night activities. His tunic was on the floor near the bed. But he made no effort to take it. What for?

The Dementor Lord liked to have him naked most of the time.

He shivered.

Draco could feel the sticky wetness between his thighs... and inside himself.

He hugged upper body tighter, did not know how much more he would be able to endure.

"At least Harry is safe."

Lady Margaret had told him everything. Harry was not in Azkaban, had been saved by his friends.

And he had not been.

He swallowed. Harry had already made clear at the time that he did not want anything with a pathetic Death Eater who had also been cheating him.

But then why had he tried to rescue Draco in the first place?

He supposed maybe because Draco had sacrificed himself for him. Harry was so noble as to do that.

Sadly he took out from under the pillow a folded piece of worn paper. The note that the Auror had left for him that single morning after their night together.

Carefully, Draco unfolded it and started to re- read it again.

These days the small piece of paper seemed to be the only thing keeping him afloat.

"At least I know you loved me... if only for a few hours."

 _I love you._  The simple words, written with Harrys characteristic disorder, whispered to him under the sad consolation of the dying candles.

“Harry ...” He sobbed.

It hurt so much.

 

**oOo**

(Hermione)

“No, absolutely not! Harry, I´m not going to curse you, let alone with that spell. Have you gone mad?”

She got up taking the typical posture of Mrs. Wesley when scolding any of her children; arms akimbo.

Harry rose too.

“Hermione is the only way. You said it yourself, there is no cure. The only way that Draco and I can be together is if both of us are Dementors!” His gaze was unwavering in the intensity that was almost his official mark, every time a suicide mission was launched he had that same look. But he never got that look on par with such deadly seriousness as was happening now. She knew just by looking at Harry, that he had already considered and analysed all angles of the suicide idea, and had found it the only course left.

“No. Harry you may now not see it, but eventually you'll find someone else to love. You just have to be patient…”she tried to reason with him, almost pleading.

“Hermione, I´m twenty-four, and in all my life almost no one has looked at me as I am. I, Harry. Not the guy who survived, the golden boy or a weirdo. **I**. You and Ron are two of the few who know me, and of those few people left none has ever loved me as a man. Until now. Hermione this is not something that’s going to simply fade, I do not know how to explain it, but... every time I 'm with him I feel like something had been wrong until the very instant we came together, and suddenly, the world is better, clearer; beautiful. I can´t  explain it... but I feel we're meant to be together. I know it sounds cliché! I know it sounds stupidly romantic! But Hermione ...” He put a hand to his chest, the gesture almost of pain, pleading eyes, begging her to understand.  “That's what I feel. That's the truth.”

Mione sighed. She knew she would regret this.

“... I'll help you.”

**To be continued**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi ^^ I´m at last back from my exams and work, with enought time to try to finish this fic. I hope I´m going to be able to do so during the summer. My idea is to write a chapter per week, we will see if I´m able to. ;) I will love to read about your opinions of my work, I can´t improve otherwise.... and well I feel happy everytime I have a new review ^ w ^   
> See you soon.


	22. Dementor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Such strong love deserved an opportunity, as dark and terrible as it was, to reach a happy outcome.

**Dementor's Kiss**

Ladtheove

 

Chapter 20-Dementor

 

_“Hermione, I´m twenty-four, and in all my life almost no one has looked at me as I am. I, Harry. Not the guy who survived, the golden boy or a weirdo. I. You and Ron are two of the few who know me, and of those few people left none has ever loved me as a man. Until now. Hermione this is not something that’s going to simply fade, I do not know how to explain it, but... every time I 'm with him I feel like something had been wrong until the very instant we came together, and suddenly, the world is better, clearer; beautiful. I can´t explain it... but I feel we're meant to be together. I know it sounds cliché! I know it sounds stupidly romantic! But Hermione ...” He put a hand to his chest, the gesture almost of pain, pleading eyes, begging her to understand. “That's what I feel. That's the truth.”_

_Mione sighed. She knew she would regret this._

_“... I'll help you.”_

_oOo_

Ron could not be happier.

His best friend was finally home.

They were in the bar the aurors always went to after work. A couple of butterbeers before them and talking about Quidditch, laughing here and there at remembered past stories, having fun.

The red haired auror took a big swig from his mug laughing heartily as he swallowed.

“You had me preoccupied back in Azkaban mate. I´m glad we are home.” Ron gave his best friend an open punch on the shoulder, full of camaraderie and happiness.

Harry laughed at his antics. And though the sound came forced, Ron did not care; his friend was probably still recovering from that silly infatuation with Malfoy.

“Well, what do you say we go to the Canions game this weekend?”

“I'm sorry Ron, but I can´t.” Harry apologized almost sadly, masking the melancholy in the sipping of his own beer, since he didn’t think they would see a quidditch match together again. Not after he.... changed.

At this thought, the need to tell his friend about the curse came hard, as it had these last few days. But just like then he stayed silent, knowing that revealing what he was about to do, to Ron, was impossible.

His male best friend would try to stop him if aware of his intentions.

And so, Hermione had already a farewell letter in her possession to be handed at the Burrow once Harry underwent the ritual. A somewhat sad way of saying goodbye... so sad in fact as to make the dark haired auror feel his breath catch in his throat, knowing this could be the last time he saw his very first mate. This last outing together, his most direct way to say goodbye.

Looking at his butterbeer to hide the gleam in his eyes, Harry gathered his senses and took another gulp of the beverage trying to loosen the sudden knot inside his throat, before Ronald suspected anything was wrong.

“Well ... - Ron frowned slightly- What about next week?” He insisted.

Years as an Auror helped Harry put on a cheerful exasperated façade over the sadness that wanted to burst out.

“We'll see, but I cannot promise anything.”

OOO

They left the bar two hours latter still cheerfully discussing the best players of the new season.

By then the hiding sun went down slowly behind the roofs of Diagon Alley. Its reddish light bathing the people that came and went carrying the last shopping trips of the day; children with their mothers asking for this or that sweet, some teenagers admiring the new brooms through the quidditch shop windows, a couple who smiled secretly to themselves as they came out of Madam Malkins ...

Before his arrival at Azkaban Harry had always felt good when observing the people in Diagon alley go about their day. It filled him knowing their easy lives were possible thanks to himself and other aurors like him.

But now, the joy he felt was not a mere reflection of what happiness he could glimpse on their faces. It was his own, and as such, way more potent and fulfilling than anything he had had in a very long time. At last he didn´t feel like an outside observer, like a man out of place.

He smiled. Since now, he too, had his own joy in life; A happiness that was waiting in Azkaban.

“You looking at something?” Ron's curiosity took him out of his thoughts.

“No. I just thought that ... well, you're my best friend. And whatever happens, that will not change.”

Ron realized, although he didn´t grasp the true meaning of the gesture until much later; that the faint smile that emerged to the lips of his best friend was full of saddened love. His green eyes shadowed in apology. Still, even in his apparent sorrow he also looked... at peace. Calm like he had never before seen Harry.

It frightened him.

“Harry ... you too are my mate, I mean, - he stammered- my best friend.” Talking about feelings always made Ron uncomfortable, but he tried to communicate this emotion he had anyway. The need to reassure himself of Harry’s presence and of the unlikeliness of him disappearing on Ron, pushing him to speak of things he usually left unsaid... not for lack of strong feelings, but for a misplaced sense of manliness and heavy shyness.

Harry smiled softly.

“I know Ron. - as he was speaking his watch rang a bell like sound making Harry start and apologize- I must go home, it´s late already.” Going toward the area indicated for the disappearances.

“See you tomorrow then? At work?” Ron asked at his back still feeling anxious without motive.

“Sure.” Harry smiled over his shoulder, eyes bright, one last time.

A group of wizards crossed the street hiding him from view, and when the redhead wanted to talk again, Harry was gone.

Ron did not grasp why, but deep inside knew he would never see his mate again.

 

**oOoOoOo**

(Harry)

He appeared in the clear patch of grass surrounded by forest, his home was constructed at, in time to see the building silhouetted against the last sunlight of day.

In the growing darkness, the only single small flame light inside the living room, gave the impression of a tiny orange eye looking outside with suspicion, angry and tired... Aged even, since the cream colour he had painted its walls in, a year ago, lacked its usual lustre. It seemed losing the magic woven around its walls over the years, had taken away its vitality.

Harry had removed the spells that very morning, knowing that when it was sold, his protections would only serve as a nuisance to the new owner.

Yet, it was still somewhat sad, to see a place he had called home for so long, wasted.

“Only until someone else buys it.” He reminded himself. Then smiled faintly, somewhat in apology, stayed a moment longer keeping the image of that which had been his, in memory, and went inside.

The time was that Harry understood his home was no longer tied to a building.

As he closed the door at his back, a violent wind began to blow outside, making the tree branches moan, carrying the first signs of the storm that was suddenly, and rapidly, taking over the sky. Large clouds engulfing the last traces of dusk’s red light, and giving way to an auspicious night for the darkest magic.

As he made his way to the lounge, thrown the windows he passed near of, Potter saw the storm come fast. Soon he could no longer even distinguish the stars, just complete darkness, the agonizing howl of the wind, and the growl of thunder ever closer.

Then the door to the living room creaked open, and Hermione, who had been waiting, turned to see her best friend enter.

Inside, the now bare (since Kreacher had emptied the place) dark wooden walls and floors, seemed almost black in the dim orange glow of the fire. Harry caught himself thinking about coffins, death, and lonely places.

Sinuous shadows in every corner of the room, danced to the sway of the flames with strange movements that made them seem almost alive. Nothing moved in the darkness beyond them, the very air breathed felt dusty and heavy, as if the house had been already abandoned for a long time.

To this place Harry came covered in black, long-formal robes; a set he had never put on since he purchased them for one the parties at the ministry. The lush material clung tight to his broad shoulders and waist, hanging lose around his legs, to stop with its edge brushing the dragon skin of his boots.

Such shady colour emphasized the ashen pallor of his usually golden skin, blended with his messy, almost like crazy hair, and made his green, determined eyes, glow darker inside the dark circles of tiredness around them. He looked almost feverish, ominously dark and dangerous. A truly dark wizard.

“Good night” Harry greeted, and his calm voice and gentle smile broke the image of evilness, easing Hermione’s nervousness, though she would never speak of it.

“Good night Harry.” She offered back almost sadly.

As if both had agreed on their way to take the spell, she too, had come dressed in black. Although in her case, the choice was not due to ceremony, but born from the depressing sense of assisting a funeral- her best friends funeral- she could not shake off. An ominous feeling that had painted around her eyes gloomy circles of tiredness, accounted, as it could be, for her lack of sleep, dishevelled hair and rumpled clothes.

Harry halted in his steps before he was a full meter from the door, took a moment to look back and ad, as a precaution, some very powerful locking spells. With the protections of the house absent, anyone could come in and interrupt; A very unlikely occurrence, true, but better safe than sorry, since he didn´t plan on learning the consequences to mind, body and soul, if such a complex process was interrupted.

The furniture had been removed from the area by Kreacher, and now all that remained inside, were them and the sack at Hermiones feet containing the necessary items for their activities.

“Harry ... Are you still sure about this?” – Miones inquiry sounded almost like a plea, as she laid her delicate hand on his arm, just as the first lightning flashed across the sky, briefly bating the room in icy blue light.

“I'm sure.” – Harry answered placing his hand over hers.

He loved Mione, and would miss her... part of him wanted to forget everything and go back to his old life. But even that part winced at the thought of never seeing Draco again, of not being able to contemplate his beautiful silver hair, his sad gray eyes, his almost broken smile...

It was a brief shock to realize that, if necessary, he could live without his friends... but not without Malfoy.

A warm smile made its way across Harrys lips.

“I'm sure.” – He repeated, unmovable now.

Hermiones hazelnut eyes became resigned and impossible sad.

“I just wish you would reconsider.”- She inhaled shakily, and suddenly looked away, but not before Harry could glimpse the telltale glint in them.

“Hermione...”

“It's okay.” - She interrupted before he could try to apologize. - “I knew you would not change your mind. But I had to try, right?” – The smile she made herself put on, was shaky, but still there, just as warm as her hand against the fabric of his cloak.

Harry sighed affectionately at this.

“Yes, of course you had to. Come here.”

The male auror caught his female best friend in an awkward goodbye hug. Hermione smelled fresh and homely; like cookies and cinnamon. Her presence a warm indefinable weight against him; a heat that always made him wonder if his mother would have felt the same.

“Do not forget us, please?”- Mione said not-crying with her face in Harry's coat, the smile still a fragile thing on her lips.

“I couldn´t even if I tried.”- He returned with his own sad smile. -“Thank you so much Hermione, for doing this for me.”

He gave her a little playfully nudge as they parted, so she could use the banter to dry her tears and regain some poise. Even so, and as was usual with Hermione, she didn´t only take that last minute to regain her control, but to further think on the matter as well.

She couldn´t help but wonder if this really was right. Was Harrys happiness worth his soul? After all he had been through throughout his life ... of losing parents, fighting a war, facing a dark creature whose power alone could have destroyed them all, and having lost so many loved ones, after helping so many people...

He deserved to be happy. She wanted her best friend to be happy.

And if what he needed to attain that, was Malfoy...

It was a conclusion that had sat heavily in her heart for some days now. Hermione still didn´t know if it truly was the right choice, but... she would do this for Harry, because he had asked and she didn´t have the heart to refuse.

As it was, she took out the diary guarded inside her coat, and opened it. The old yellowed pages, slightly blackened by a fire happened long ago, cracked while she searched for the appropriate words, conjured a tripod and spread the book on it, so she could better see the diagram of a man covered by trademarks.

It was a picture of body, soul and magic superposed. Those areas that should anchor the three elements together highlined in brownish aged red, and ancient curses. Curses to craft dark thread that would sew meat, bone, essence and spirit as one. Mingle and merge them into a single form.

Below the grotesque drawing, dark ink notes spoke a spell of ancient languages long forgotten. Darker than she dared to think, less it tied her tongue with revulsion.

The man about to be sacrificed pulled from the bag a knife, a small pot, a bottle of fine musky soil, and other containing ashes. The soil belonged to the tomb of his parents, the ashes where from Draco's house. Malfoy Manor was burned during the war, now only ashes and blackened walls.

Although in truth, the earth and ash could have belonged to anywhere. These elements together with the blood of his best friend, would make for stronger bonds and a faster spell, for the three contained powerful ties to his soul.

“Hermione ...” - he muttered placing the jars next to the pot. She looked up and met the serious and intense eyes of her best friend – “It would be better if you trapped me, but not with a spell that could interfere with the magic unleashed by the curse... The wood floor is easy to transfigure, you could ensnare me in it most effectively, and not depend upon restraining charms.”

Hermiones face took on a pained look at his words.

“I don´tt think that's necessary...”

“Mione.” – Harry cut short her protests- “It’s a very painful process, we both know that I could lose control of my body, probably turn violent trying to take away the pain. I could hurt myself, and you too if I went wild enough... I don´t want to hurt you Hermione.”

“Harry ... “- She wanted to argue that that would not happen, but... she was too logical to assume the best.

“Hermione, please.” – He gave her a look that bordered on a plea... and she could not longer try to disagree.

“... Okay.” Her voice tired and soft accompanied the motion of her hands, as Hermione drawn her wand.

Harry walked to the centre of the room.

“I'm ready.” - He said calmly. And when Mione finally looked at her friend, she saw that his body language was one of confidence and pride, as if the curse was an honour for him to receive. No fear, no uncertainty, just pure determined love. It clicked for her then, that this was the right path, the only choice acceptable.

The first drops of rain began to hit the glass, leaving behind clear streaks silent like tears.

Hermione brandished her wand.

“Up Incarcelusragara.” Guided the spell to enfold the legs of her friend, climb up his arms and wrap his neck. The wooden floor turned to something liquid, winding like a snake through Harry's body, solidifying again moments later to completely catch him in its embrace.

Enveloped by thick roots, caught and yet quiet, Potter looked like a sacrifice to some primordial deity long forgotten. He tested the bonds squirming slightly. They did not give an inch.

 

Satisfied, Hermione watched as her friend laid at her mercy. If something, Harry had shown her his decision was unmovable. Such strong love deserved an opportunity, as dark and terrible as it was, to reach a happy outcome. She took a breath to steady her nerves and fluttering heart.

Reaching for her griffindor courage Hermione raised again her wand ... and began to chant.

 

**oOo**

 

He could not move.

It was very cold, so cold.... Someone was talking ... or singing? He did not know. It felt as if his mind was disconnected from his body. Everything around him was dark. He could only hear a woman's voice ... a familiar voice.

\---

The knife slid down her wrist with the ease of a needle. There was barely any pain as thick crimson blood trickled down her arm dripping ominously into the small clay pot.

\---

He managed to just part his eyelids. Everything looked distorted and strange. The light of the flames danced in the dark fabric of a dress, and shined on impossibly tangled hair. There was a woman, eyes closed, a knife in her hand ... singing... and blood dripping on the floor...

Why was her so familiar to him? All he felt was the chill taking his body. Unable to remember his eyes closed again.

\---

The pot was quickly filled with deep crimson, until it lapped at the edge of the small ceramic vessel.

That was when Hermione improvised, tearing a piece of her black dress to tightly bandage her wounded wrist. It should help stop the flow, but the fabric soaked pretty fast.

In her distress before tonight and the knowledge about what she would have to do, the female auror hadn´t thought about the time she would need to end the chant before stopping to cast a healing spell.

So now, the wound throbbed in tune with the magic of the curse and the cadence of her chant.

She turned the page and continued singing new and strange syllables, beginning to feel the consequences of blood loss. Hermione was dizzy; the edges of her vision were starting to become blurry... So she grabbed the tripod as a help to stand and not wobble, ignoring as best she could, the pulse that was becoming painful, of her wrist.

“Et sanguisamicis.” She intoned. The blood started to boil in the pot with nothing to heat it. A bead of sweat trickled down her temple, as her magic was drained into the container.

“Et terra earth famulus.” She poured the soil inside, felt how its essence was drawn within.

The mixture turned a black and putrid blend of steaming bubbles and foul odours that clung to the skin like fingers. She staggered revolted, but was soon righting herself, as her auror training helped her stomach settle.

“Etcinis amore.” Mione uttered without pause between clenched teeth, as she added the ashes.

The potion thickened like tar, the bubbles died leaving a silvery reflective surface like a mirror. The beautiful appearance didn´t deceive her, as Granger knew how lethal the mix was.

She inhaled shakily.

“Et corpus, anima et magic.” A thread of silver emerged from the pot at the coming gesture of her wand. – “Oreon is arion, in capula.” – It wire wrapped Harry...

He screamed a muffled groan like torn from a wounded animal.

Hermione shuddered, God ... What had she done? What was she doing? The desire to stop this madness almost made her stop ... but she did not, could not. If she did now, Harry could die ... or worse.

Shakily, glassy eyed from unshed tears, she struggled to continue.

One after the other, thread after thread, a cocoon was taking shape around her best friend. The air surrounding him glowed with the wires taking his body in their embrace.

\----

Harry couldn´t breathe.

His lungs were frozen, his veins pumped ice.

Something was invading and possessing him, but did not feel like a foreign body. It was as if ... as if someone was trying to get into his body a new dimension of him, that he wasn´t able to assimilate. It ached tearing and changing everything to be taken in. Harry felt his skin crack, his bones melt...

He tried to scream again, but his choked breathing allowed just a strangled whimper.

Harry was drowning; dying ... spots began to float before his eyes.

\---

“ZigoriaEtheriumaelota.” Hermione whispered...

The world lost shape around her as the curse swallowed her magic to power itself. So sudden and violent, that she didn´t even feel the exhaustion before it took her under.

The last thing Herione heard as she fell unconscious was a strange, thunder like sound, much to near to be from the storm.

Then nothing more.

\---

DRACO

 

Griever embraced his lover a little tighter against his body, and wrapped him carefully in his arms shielding him on his chest. But Draco seemed unable to stop his tears. For three days he had been in this state. Three days of a sadness that threatened to consume what little was left of the blonde.

He was so thin and seemed so delicate ... as if he could shatter in small pieces of himself.

His thin pale skin stretched over bones as fragile as the skeleton of a bird. His hair was dull without the silvery sheen of its strands, and his skin was cracking like fine chipping porcelain...

But what the Lord could not bear to notice was the dull gray of Dracos eyes. They seemed mirrors, reflecting everything, showing nothing; Lifeless. He could almost thank the constant tears that flowed from them, since by crying, they showed that something must still exist behind the dead surface.

Not for the first time in recent days, the King of the tower cursed in the silence of his thoughts the night that brought Draco to this state.

He could remember accurately...

Finished his responsibilities Griever had returned to their rooms too early, to find Draco curled against the headboard and reading a crumpled paper note. When the young man saw him ... he had tried to hide the paper.

But Griever had demanded it imperiously, and like all Dementors, Draco could not refuse.

Giving away the piece of parchment seemed to make the blond sick. He trembled as he tried to disobey, his breath coming in ragged drowned gasps... but the will of the Lord Dementor was stronger.

He had expected many things, but to read those words of love from the auror...

They enraged him beyond clear though.

Draco was his! Even his thoughts must have been his! HIS LOV...!!

He got up and walked to the fireplace.

Draco begged, pleaded ... but he paid no attention.

 

The Dementor Lord tossed the note in to the flames ... and he had to hold the little white before he lunged to save it. Once trapped, Griever continued to hold Draco caged in his arms despite his cries and tears, as he was forced to watch the words disappear into ashes...

Until finally, when the note was nothing more than cinder, Draco was thrown to the ground. His robe teared away, his legs forced open... Griever took him wild and violently, burning malicious whispers of possession into white skin.

When The Lord was finished, Draco was little more than a broken puppet under him.

From that moment on the little white had not moved, had not spoken. And every day he seemed a little more fragile, a little more brittle.

And for some reason to see it so ... Griever could not help but feel a strange pain in his chest every time he looked at the tears on that face.

He gently brushed away a strand that had fallen over Dracos forehead, almost tenderly kissing his cheek. But he received no response.

In the end, he took a sleeping potion from the nightstand, and with slow care helped Draco swallow.

The pale lashes fell, and the silent tears dried. When he slept Griever could pretend that everything was well. Sometimes he wished for Draco to never wake.

The Auror was the one to blame! If he had not intervened, stealing a heart that belonged to the Dementor Lord, then Draco would not have ended in this state.

... Griever did not even understand his own feelings ... never before had he cared for anyone. But with the little blond he could not make himself unfeeling.

Suddenly, he sensed...

There was a strange ripple in the threads that connected the other Dementors to him. It was caused by the presence of a new entity among them and its power ... a power comparable to his.

Griever felt this unbalance his control, but not break it. The other Dementors would be confused about whom to follow. With an angry hiss the old Lord rose from the bed.

There was only one man with such power and a reason to become one of them.

It could only be...

“Potter.” The one guilty of Dracos pain ... and his.

A sadistic smile bloomed on thin charred lips. Now the Auror was fair game. Nobody got into the affairs of the tower.

Straining his senses seeking his presence, he could feel Potter close in Azkaban.

Gently tucking the little white in bed, he placed a kiss on his hair. “Don´t be afraid Draco, soon the reason for your pain will stop to exist. Soon you will not need to grieve...” A cruel poisonous chuckle escaped his throat.

 

**It will continue.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been horribly devoid of inspiration and time as of late. I apologise for the wait, but I have a life of my own to work on. ;) I hope to be able to translate more soon. See you and thanks for giving time and care to this small fic, and its very tired author. ^^


	23. Road

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A reunion of sorts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have repaired the chapter, since it had a lot of misspellings.

 

Harry

 

The pain of the cold ground beneath his tired body, awakened him to the plick-plock of the softly falling rain outside, and the freezing atmosphere inside.

Harry sat up exhausted, still too numb to feel the cold, and  finally looked around to understand that, somehow, he was no longer in his living room.

The place around him was shady, light only by a few torches along the walls of what appeared to be a hallway; Dim orange lights dancing on gray stone as old and worn as the bones of an ossuary.

Suddenly, not far from where he stood, the cries of a tortured man confirmed what he already suspected.

He was in Azkaban.

How or why he had appeared here Harry could not be sure of, but it could be related to the object controlling the Dementors and that remained in Ministry’s care. Perhaps when he received the curse it had necessarily transported him here. As the object kept the Dementors in Azkaban, it was to understand it could as easily move one to where he was supposed to be.

In fact if Harry had been the one designing the artifact, he would have gifted it the same.

Thinking how he was supposed to register as a dementor to that contraption...

Harry looked at his own self.

Indeed his clothes were gone, replaced by a spotless white robe. Curios, the new dementor touched briefly the fabric, looked at his own hands; he didn't feel any different; the only new characteristic as of now being his white robe… even if it did not seem to have a third of the softness that had characterized the one Draco wore. But Draco wasn't much changed either by coming to be a white dementor.

Maybe he would change some more when taking his first soul.

Suddenly, a more high and horrid scream echoed down the hall, reminding the auror of how dangerous it was to remain still in this place; even more now, in his intermediate state. Not fully a dementor, not really human, and too vulnerable to encounter the Dementor Lord.

 

So he left his curiosity for when, changed fully, he was no longer in such heavy danger. 

Walking cautiously from shadow to shadow, all senses alert, as he scouted his surroundings to understand where in Azkaban he was, and after having left several turns behind, Harry came to a silver carved door immediately recognizable as one of those that sealed the levels underground.

Therefore, all the prisoners here should be supernatural creatures.

Looking carefully into the dark interior of some of the cells, Harry identified a few rigidly drawn shapes lounging on their cots. From outside he could not see the pallor of their skin, but their unnerving stillness was easy to recognize.

"Vampires.”

 

Hermione had told him that the fourth level of the basement was flooded, and since this place was not, he should be in the vampire area  of the first to third basement levels.

As Harry was pondering the new information, suddenly, a strange feeling, like a thread getting taut, assaulted his insides.

Cautiously he fled deeper into the shadows, just when a Dementor appeared around the corner. 

He seemed to be looking for something ... and Harry did not like how it gazed in his direction.

 

**oOo**

 

**Hermione**

 

An involuntary moan escaped her throat. God ... she hurt all over.

"This must be how Charlie felt when that dragon knocked him over."

 

With slow agony Hermione managed to open her eyes, needing to close them as she recovered. 

It was like trying to look inside a washing machine, as dizzy as she felt.  But after a minute or so of slow breaths she managed to dispel the headache enough to look at her surroundings.

Firelight was still the only illumination of the room, as from the windows only the blackness of a stormy night could be seen. Not enough time had gone by for the sun to rise, so she couldn't have been out for more than a couple hours.

 

Hoping to find Harry still caught between the roots she had conjured, Hermione felt the beginnings of panic rise in her stomach at seeing her best friend gone. In fact, the wood where he was supposed to be was not only vacant, it looked charred, as if it had been hit by lightning or consumed by fire.

 

Worried for her friend, Hermione tried to get up too quickly, dizziness making her knees weak. Realizing she was not going to be able to stand if she kept half fainting, the auror took her wand -which had fallen from her hand to the floor when she lost consciousness- and quickly ran a few basic healing spells over herself.

The dizziness and most of the exhaustion dissipated with the magic, but not the entirety of the worry, that had, thankfully, been taken under control during the routine auror healing. 

Now, calmer, cautiously, she stood up and approached the charred remains to better survey what was left of the makeshift restraints.

 

"What could have done… - gently Hermione touched one blackened wood edge, and it dissolved into fine ash. - this?"

As the last word left her lips, her brain jumped into gear and the auror remembered the thunder heard just before falling unconscious. The sound had been slightly off, too strong to come from the storm outside.

"Could it be…?"

Hermione dashed to where she had fallen, picking up the bag that had been left on the corner of the room, and began rummaging inside until she found the notes both Harry and her had collected about the Dementor curse. Turning the pages urgently, scanning them and discarding useless information until she found what she sought.

 

There it was - a very vague description of the magical device that kept the Dementors prisoner in Azkaban.

"Any dementor that leave´s without consent, will be immediately returned to where it belongs." 

The text was unclear on the method of such transportation, but she suspected that was the origin of the thunder that had knocked her out.

Though not entirely a dementor yet, the contraption must have detected and sent Harry to Azkaban.

"Without him being a full dementor ..." -Something twisted inside her at the understanding.

Vulnerable, half changed, his magic would not respond well, and even if it did Harry didn't have his wand. If he faced the Dementor Lord in such a  state …

" Griever will devour him.”

And no one would prevent it, because technically his friend was no longer human, or at least, not entirely human.

 

Worry accelerated Hermione's heartbeat but she had confronted far more terrifying odds, and with a firm shake of her head the female auror reigned in her feelings.

If anyone saw her now with her hair tangled and disheveled, clothing torn, and eyes tired but hard, they may have thought she was back at war.

“Kreacher.” - she called.

After a couple of seconds of agonizing waiting, the malicious elf appeared clearly unhappy at being called by a dirty mudblood. However forced he was to answer by the command of his master, who long years back, ordered him to help his friends if, at any given time, they called him.

“Someday it could become necessary, could one day save our lives”; Harry had argued back then. Now, those words proved truthful. 

All this time Hermione had resisted the use of such power over any living being. But at present she was glad for it. No time to go home.

“Bring me Harry's medikit, please.”

With a murmur about the indignity of serving her, the elf disappeared with an angry pop, returning a moment later with the white suitcase before disappearing again immediately after.

Granger shrunk the briefcase to carry in her pocket, and grabbed Harry's wand, before ultimately, also taking the knife used in the ritual and strapping it to her waistband.

As prepared as she could be in such short time, Hermione took a handful of floo powder and stepped into the fireplace.

Luckily she was still admitted  into the barriers of Azkaban, at least until Tomass trial was held and the case was closed, since, unlikely her friend, she had not risen in protest against the minister for Draco's situation. 

A moment later  the green powder hit the fire:

 

-¡Azkaban!- she called.

 

**oOo**

Draco.

He wanted to disappear, as rainwater is absorbed by the earth. Have himself engulfed by the warm and maternal depths of damp soil, never to arise again. He may become part of the plants and insects that feed from his tired flesh and soft organs. Getting rid of many small things until his only  remaining were whitish brittle bones, and a vague memory almost forgotten.

Maybe then he would not need to suffer. 

 

He wondered if even then he would be able to forget Harry, and if in some small part of what remained of him he would still remember. He suspected nothing he could do would erase the auror from his memory or his body, as long as something of Draco remained.

 

And he almost hated him for it.

 

Because it hurt too much to remember what was lost and what could never be.

 

At first he had not. At first he had been afraid to forget him, because the aurors love for him was the only thing that helped him move from day to day, and to forget that what was being done to him. Later, when the Dementor Lord destroyed all that remained of the warm Auror in Draco's care: his one and only letter. It had hurt so much ... And the memory had become a torture in itself.

He felt frozen inside in Harry's absence. And every time he fell into the cold clutches of Griever Draco got teared inside, losing himself strand by strand, as if in the end, after all, he would get his wish and shatter into pieces.

 

It hurt too much, it was horrible and agonizing and he did not know how much longer he could go on. He was tired of suffering. Tired of life, tired even to exist.

 

Mourning was the only thing he seemed to have the strength for lately. Merlin! He was so pathetic ... Lucius would be ashamed to call him son.  Although really it did not matter anymore, after all, the proud patriarch of the Malfoy family was dead.

 

Draco could only be grateful his father was no longer suffering.

 

He would have done anything to be able to die and get to see his family again, even if they felt ashamed of him. But dementors were immortal. 

Unable to achieve permanent peace Draco would have to learn to live with this suffering.

 

If he could.

 

He snuggled a little further in bed, feeling the touch of the old and heavy velvet on the skin, refusing to acknowledge the sticky wetness between his thighs, and burying his face in the pillow to sniff the familiar smell of dust and dry spices. Draco drowned pain in it and prayed again to get rid of life, because he did not think he could ever learn to live this way.

 

Not while he remembered Harry. No while conscious.

 

He closed his eyes tighter,  calling for sleep, to forget at least for a few hours. But the effect of the potion was over and the needed sleep refused to come.

 

If the Lord were here he would have brought another vial for his relief, but for the first time since this started, he was not in the room.

 

Draco did not understand why the Dark Lord of the tower seemed determined to help  endure pain that he himself had caused. And he did not want to know.

 

His mere presence made him feel like dying, and Draco was infinitely grateful for his absence now, even if it meant having to stay awake.

 

However the pain inside did nothing but worsen with each passing minute. It had stuck hooks inside and with every passing moment they  twisted  more in the soft remainings of his heart, blood pouring hot from still open and festering wounds. Soon his eyes were flooded, his breathing turned into brief spasms of agony, his body trembling and drenched in cold sweat.

 

"I can not go on like this, I can not." He needed to get away from the pain, he needed his sleep potion.

 

In the end he decided to go look for it himself. The Lord must have more in his laboratory.

All the inhabitants of the tower were forbidden to go there... but ... A new flash of agony made the decision for Draco.

 

Half crawling, half standing, he reached one post of the huge bed, and  managed, clinging to it, to stand on legs too weak after long days without walking. If he had the energy, maybe he could have glided as all dementors were capable of, but his remaining strength was barely enough for walking with hands on the wall as help.  

Clawing at the cracks in the stone, Draco started toward the door.

**oOo**

Griever Gryffindor.

 

The room was not particularly spacious, but it was enough for what he had in mind, and that was all that mattered.

 

Normally Griever would have used his own rooms for this kind of meeting, but Draco was sleeping inside right now, and he  wasn't about to risk his fragile whites already precarious sanity by speaking about Potter where he could hear. 

At least not until the Auror died and his soul was forever extinct.

 

The fragile blonde was in no condition to withstand any more than he already did, and if he discovered that Potter was in Azkaban, Griever knew he would try to help him again.

 

Thus getting hurt once more. And frankly the idea brought out... distaste? Griever supposed he could call it that. It was difficult to correctly identify such a strange feeling for him.

 

“Margaret.”- He called, getting the female dementor to quickly refill his fine crystal glass.

 

He had summoned those darker Dementors in this room, with Margaret as servant for the drinks. 

 

The place was not very different from the rest of the tower, with its well-preserved old furniture of dark wood, heavy velvet curtains and the windows covered by a thick layer of dust.

 

The only noticeable difference being the color that dominated the place; Blue. A dark and intense blue like a Veronica flower about to wither.

 

It was the only concession to the red and gold that prevailed throughout the rest of the tower, and maybe that's why he loved this place.

But even in such a soothing setting, his mod was precariously tense, teetering into fury.

The candlelight, the crackling fire, and the moonbeams that managed to get through the glass, dimmed under the influence of his aura.

 

The drink in his glass threatened to freeze, and only years of forced control enabled him to maintain a facade of calm. When a few knocks on the door, announced the entrance of William and four other Dementors.

 

“Take a seat”- His imperious tone was enough for the five to obey, taking their places around the table Lord Griever had chosen the head of. 

They all waited in silence as their leader sipped his liquor slowly, taking time to survey them. They all had already felt the slight loosening of the threads that chaines them to their Lord, but the bind was still strong enough to command instant obedience, and fear was a powerful incentive.

 

The dementors were not foolish enough to think about betraying their forced loyalty, since everyone of them knew to act with leaf-like delicate feet when the Dark Lord was in such a mood.

His aura was oppressive even to others of the same fate,  reeking of death and dying things.

“I honestly do not think I have to name the reason of your presence here.” - Griever finally spoke coldly. The drink in his hand froze with a subtle crackle sound that made chills invade the audience. 

He set the glass on the table as if it was suddenly insignificant. His apparent calm and tranquility didn't fool ANYBODY.

 

“Bring him alive.” - Even if one of them had thought about disobeying, the cold cruelty of his voice convinced everyone to obey, if not by choice, out of fear.

William, his faithful dog, gave a deep bow.

“As you want.”- and everyone else agreed.

 

**oOo**

Harry

 

He pressed his back against the wall for the maximum protection of the shadows, but the dementor kept moving, stopping here and there to look into one of the cells. As if he could feel Harry's presence near, but wasn't sure where exactly to look.

Harry had very few options. Trapped against the wall next to the silver door, the dementor blocked the corridor through which he had come. Which meant he couldn't risk trying to take that route, and he couldn't confront him with magic, as unstable as was his magic now even if he had his wand, which he didn't. 

He could try to open the silver door as quietly as possible and sneak inside before being seen. If it would open for him, that is.

He chose to give the second option a try.

“Everver.”- Harry barely whispered. 

The door opened a crack at the password. Thanking internally that they had not changed the passwords from last month, and hoping the dementor would not see anything amiss, as he was again engrossed watching through the bars of another cell, Harry opened the door just enough to slip inside, carefully closing it again behind him, and looked around.

 

Here the light was even scarcer than in the hallway, and the few lit torches that remained, just showed the outline of jagged descending stairs and nothing else. So with no other option, he began to descend them.

 

Soon it began appearing scum on the walls and floor; A green and slippery substance, nasty-looking, mold smelling and wet. The gloomy carved stone galleries covered in it,  looked more like natural caves full of mystery, than the halls of a prison.

 

The stagnant air clung to his throat, as he breathed in the strong smell of salt. 

Harry grimaced, but kept going.

 

Finally after some time of slow descent, he found the entrance to the new level... and water.

 

The place was flooded with stagnant, corrupt and putrid liquid. Strange and small algae had found their grip on the rock soil, and its greenish tips could be seen skimming the surface as skeletal fingers. 

Harry knew then, that he was in the last basement plant. Which meant that, at least now, he knew for sure where he was.

 

He slipped in the wather carefully, checking its depth and feeling relieved when it only reached his knees. With the idea of finding out a new way up, he began to move through the last and strangest level of Azkaban.

 

All was nearly silent, with the dripping from a leak breaking the stillness now and again. 

The place felt like catacombs, like an underwater graveyard. It was unnerving. Inert figures could be seen on moldy mattresses, looking like corpses swept away by the tide. Whitish creatures that certainly had to be vampires, nocturnal and now asleep.

So perhaps it was day outside. 

 

“Potter”- A whisper so perfectly mingled with silence, that initially his mind didn't grasp, called for Harry. 

But the moment he did, the ex auror turned to the sound, his body tense, his mind alert.

“Who's there?”- he hissed looking around warily. Back against the wall as a precaution.

“No need to get defensive,  it's not like I can do anything from here.” - 

The voice was familiar but, Harry could not remember who it belonged to.

Someone was moving in the opposite cell. The light did not reach there, but he managed to distinguish wavy hair and an athletic body contour. Something clicked in Harry's brain at this, like a puzzle, and only one word surfaced to his lips.

“Zabini?” 

“The one and only”.- 

The answer did not reassure the Auror, but he slightly relaxed his pose nonetheless. 

“You are becoming a dementor.” Zabini said from the shadows,his tone seemed to contain a strange and indefinable mixture of shocked surprise, anger, gratitude, relief and a sharp grain of jealousy, which left Harry confused and trying to measure how much of each had been in it, without obtaining a clear answer.

Intrigued, and knowing that his own answer did not pose a danger, he nodded.

“For Draco.”- Zabini's voice broke directly to the core. No doubt there, just the assertion of a certainty.

Harry did not know whether to answer that. Could he trust the old Slytherin?

Blaise came to the bars, letting some of the dim light touch his lax hands, carefully closed around them. 

Pansy had told him all of it, or at least everything she knew.

Draco was now a dementor. All by Potter. Stupid ungrateful bastard. During the last month he had imagined hundreds of ways to rip and tear the Auror to meath pieces. Bring his blood to a magnificent orgy of gore.

He had cursed Draco's fall for him. He had wanted to kill the Lord Dementor over and over, and over again. And virtually the same for Tomas, sometimes at the same time. Make them regurgitate their own intestines to start with.

But this ... this he had not expected. Even though Pansy had told him what happened, he was hard pressed to believe that Potter really loved Draco. At the end of the day, there hadn't been a sign of life from Potter in a month.

And now this?

But he needed to find a way to help hia friend before it was too late. Before he ceased to exist. How could his best friend endure alone in the hands of the worst monster of the tower?

No one had seen him since the ceremony. At least no one who was not a dementor, and they never said anything, even though they could.

He made a frustrated sound that was almost half a hiss, a legacy of his vampire nature, and clasped harder his fingers around the metal. 

Potter, as always, was frustrating. But he was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt... for now.

“Potter ... “- He let the pain and exhaustion in his voice leak. For once what he wanted could not be get lying. They needed the Auror for this.- “Draco and Pansy are the only thing I have left. They are my best friends, my family. You should understand this.”

Harry came nearer to see his face. The light was dim, but once his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could distinguish the features of Zabini's face and the twinkle in his red eyes.

 

He seemed sincere. But Harry knew better than to trust someone like him.

 

“I understand what it is to have good friends, if that's what you want To know.”-  the new dementor said in his most neutral voice.

But the vampire was quick to understand that the auror had his reasons, all well founded, not to trust him. Zabini would have to really show his feeling, if he wanted to be believed.

 

Clinging to the bars, Blaise tried to find the words that would give voice to his heart. Never before had he had to discuss this with anyone but the two who he loved, and loved him back. 

He took a breath. For a moment not knowing how to start, what to say. Then he thought of Draco and Pansy, and what they would lose if this did not work ... and the first words escaped his lips, like a whisper lost in the memory.

 

“None of us wanted to go to war, despite our families pressure on us. Draco's parents, my mother, Pansy's parents, her older brother ... Everyone wanted us to fight for a crazy man, whose ideals were most absurd, whose desire for power led him to torture even his most loyal followers.”- gently he shook his head, regretting their families decisions and their own naivety. 

Harry could not help but be interested in the story. The staging of a tale that explained much of whom Draco had been and had become. 

“It was absurd. But we had grown up with stories of the Lord that would bring the disappearance of muggles, and freedom for wizards. A world where we did not have to hide for fear of the memory of witch-hunts. By the time we realized our mistake and what kind of man the Dark Lord was we had already taken the Mark. Adults... no one wanted to listen to us…” 

His gaze lost in the distance, remembering old words Harry wanted increasingly to listen to.

“I don't know why. Perhaps the long time under the influence of the monster's had also twisted them inside. But we knew we could not kill. We were not like them. At least not yet. And we were afraid of what would happen to us if we remained to participate in the war. It was wrong. It was terribly so.”

Harry wondered if Zabini was even aware that he had a listener any longer.. the vampire seemed completely immersed in the memory. Speaking for himself in soft murmurs filled with pain.

“So we behaved like little snakes. We nodded and pretended agreement. And meanwhile we planned, prepared.. and finally one winter night before the war, we fled. We had been pilfering from our family accounts. They were so rich that a few hundred galleons, here and there, quietly hidden in other expenses, did not raise suspicions.

We took sufficient for all us three. Bought a house far enough away from any urban center to avoid being detected, close enough to a muggle city to confuse us with them. And with a beautiful garden, where  Pansy looked after the roses herself, and Draco planted and cultivated ingredients for his potions. I just enjoyed the peace of mind you could breathe there. It was our home ... it was for the three years of the war. It was  even when I turned ... “

Blaise's voice trembled, he blinked after a moment, as if remembering he was not alone. His eyes met Harry's ... and there was a vulnerability in the red depths ... Harry had seen in the eyes of all who had feared losing their loved ones in the war. One he had seen in the mirror more times than he would like. A gap of pain and fear and desperate longing to protect, even though it was impossible to do.

It had been years since Harry had seen such expression. The wizarding world was healing quickly from the wounds of battle. So now to find it again … it convinced him that while perhaps Zabini was not telling the whole truth, his love for Draco and Pansy was real and unconditional. 

Zabini would die for them without blinking. 

“The ministry locked us here a few weeks after the end of the last battle. We made a mistake, we thought we would get a fair trial. We had not done anything during the war, we were innocent. We believed that if we came out of our hiding place and we showed our refusal to take part in the fighting, we could resume normal life. Stop being afraid, always hidden.”

Zabini pressed his sharp teeth together to contain the anger. Not to scream at the injustice. The bars digging into his palms but not important.

“But we were wrong. Our brands were enough for them to condemn us. We didn't had a trial, not a moment to say goodbye. We were separated and locked in this hell.”

He looked at Harry with a deep anger not directed at him, but at  all those officials and members of the ministry too terrified to think before locking three innocents in Azkaban. 

Blaise knew few worse monsters than them.

“ It was almost two years, nearly two years, until we were able to communicate again. When Pansy managed to get the work as maid that allowed her to move with some liberty inside the prison. She visited both of us and conveyed messages from one to the other. You can not know what those years made of us all. And what we mean to each other.”

Harry appreciated the fierceness in Zabini's eyes.

“You want to save Draco, I want the same. In the state you are, half turned, you have no choice, You need me. Draco needs me.”

The heartfelt words, the gleam in his red eyes ... there was one possible answer.

And he opened the door.

To be continued

 

To be continued.


	24. Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Never to wake up again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and welcome to this new chapter of Dementor kiss, I hope you like it. It took a lot of work to finish. Naw, about the moment Blaise tastes Hermione's blood, have in mind please, that the description is purely metaphorical, as in my universe vampires can taste their victims personality and memories in their blood. Thanks again, and have very good time.
> 
> Reviews are like cookies, please give the author one?

 

The gate opened with a shuddering groan, almost like a metal sigh of relief at finally letting the vampire go.

 

Blaise stepped from the shadows of the cell, the dying light of the corridor touching his features and letting Potter see him clearly for the first time in years, now that the darkness of the tiny niche could not hide him.   
  


Zabini was certainly attractive, his face smooth and flawless in its youthfulness… Maybe too youthful.

 

The old slytherin must not have been more than nineteen when he received the bite. Probably even younger. And the years in Azkaban had not done him well. The teenage he remembered had become emaciated, ashen pale, and exhausted looking.

 

The clothes, now rags eaten away by the dampness, were hanging of his body as the sheet of a ghost, stressing the reddish, hungry sheen, of his changeable pupils.

 

He was obviously starved.

 

Nevertheless, the tranquility he was moving with made obvious the sure grasp Zabini had on his instincts, as the vampire stopped three feet from Harry to offer his bare palm in a gesture of peace, not baring his fangs to the near and delicious fresh blood. 

 

Potter observed all this and that which was being offered and inquired:

 

“Friends?”-  as he pushed the mistrust to the bottom of his mind, for the need of an alliance, and the possibility of learning to tolerate someone who was so important for Draco. 

 

Willing to try forgiving Zabini, for the italian bastard he remembered terrifying the weakest students at Hogwarts. 

 

The vampire frowned.

 

“Alies”  - he corrected finely. 

 

Potter was not, nor could he be, his friend, ever. 

 

The auror agreed. 

 

“I can live  with it. “- shaked the pale hand firmly.

* * *

 

(Hermione)

 

She stepped out the hearth and inside the guards room of Azkaban, the only place of the prison, according to her knowledge, that was connected to the floo network, though to use it you must be accepted by the barriers. 

 

Now she felt grateful no one had remembered to erase her previous permit. 

 

Hermione took in the environment raising her wand in defense, more as precaution, than because she really thought  someone was to attack her.

 

The place was silent and empty. 

 

Nothing had changed since they were here last month, and only the lack of the mattresses in the floor evidenced the pas of time. 

 

On the table a couple of dirty cups and plates filled with crumbs showed  where breakfast had been taken by the guards. The elves still had not come to gather them, so much time could not have gone by since their exit. 

 

So far, so good.

 

Explaining her presence here could have turned out to be complicated.

 

Once sure she was alone, Granger did not amuse herself any more, and casted the charm that all the aurors learned in order to locate their companions. 

 

From the tip of her wand appeared a thread of white light. 

 

Hermione smiled. 

 

It still worked with Harry.

* * *

 

(Draco)

 

The old wooden door yielded easily when he turned the knob. 

 

Draco had not expected it to be so easy and fell inside when the weight of his body, which had been supported by the door, ceased to have a solid surface to hold it. 

 

The impact with the ground opened scratches on his palms, making him feel utterly pathetic, weak, and unable even to take a few steps without falling apart. 

 

Drowning in despair, he could only breathe in small drowned gasps, as tears dripped down his chin, and he tried to clench down the  increasingly wrenching pain inside threatening to make him remember his nights with the Lord Dementor... or his only night with Harry, and right now, either of the two would have shattered him.

 

Slowly, trembling, Draco managed to get up, supporting himself in the stony wall, enough to look around through the veil of tears. 

 

For a second, all he saw was the reflection of hundreds of crystals, until his mind took it all in and managed to understand what he was seeing; the glow of glass containers carefully catalogued on shelves that roamed the walls from floor to ceiling. Each small space occupied by a jar of ingredients, or already finished potions.

 

Dried leaves, body parts, creatures in formalin, polished stones, bones, fine milled powders, acids, and other elements that he could not recognize, were there at his fingertips, in delicate vials no larger than his index finger, or jugs as huge as a human torso.

 

A big and solid dark wood table occupied the center of the room, on which rested utensils and cauldrons that would have caused the most bitter jealousy of his godfather, Severus Snape, and that's saying something. 

 

A new flip of the valves of his heart caused by the remembrance of his godfather, tore a groan from Draco's lips and made his already weak forces falter.

 

Not without effort, Draco managed to take a step. He trembled, and his legs seemed about to become water, but they held him enough so he could get to hold on to the edge of the table, and so take a seat on the only chair before it.

 

An aged, but fluffy, soft red leather armchair.

 

Messily he cleaned the tears of his cheeks using the sleeve of his robe, trying quite pathetically to look around once more, and identify the different concoctions, before it was too late and he stopped looking for a sleeping draught to search for poison.  Even if it would not kill him, as he was a dementor, it was worth trying for a little time of forgetfulness. 

 

He felt exhausted, about to crumble under the weight of the memories, and perhaps that's why his mind took much more haste to find the potion needed. 

 

He identified it in a shelf not far from him, it's bright blue color unmistakable under the dancing light of the torches. 

 

As the fragile man extended an arm to catch one of the vials, his eyes, suddenly, caught sight of  another vial a few levels above. 

 

It was the size of a head of garlic, and had an hermetically sealed with wax, cap. There were very few, and all of them dangerous, potions, that needed such type of closure. 

 

He frowned slightly. 

 

Inside the crystal a lumpy substance the color of coagulated blood, bubbled quietly.

 

The old potions apprentice recognized it from one of the thick books on the subject he had so loved when he still had a life. 

 

The knowledge made him feel out  of breath.

 

“Betirako.” - he muttered. 

 

It was a forbidden potion. Dangerous, famous for its effects even among the muggles. Nobody had manufactured it in centuries, and its recipe was believed lost. However here it was a substance that completely matched the descriptions he read about it.

 

“The potion of eternal sleep”-the whisper broke shakily through between pale lips, almost as if he feared to see it disappear.

 

If what he had read was true... a few drops, only a few drops, and he would sleep forever. 

 

The Apple of snow white, the use of the Princess aurora, the cup of Vivienne... all poisoned by this potion. 

 

He swallowed. 

 

Draco could feel the longing tickling his insides, as if he had had  too much to drink. 

 

If he wanted  he could sink inside of a dream not to ever arise again. Nothing had ever seemed so tempting, as it was at that moment that potion. But the concoction had a remedy did it not? 

 

"A kiss of true love." 

He smiled sadly. As if Harry was ever to approach him again. 

 

He hugged himself, glistening tears sliding again down his cheeks sunken curve. Harry never would.

 

“Never…” -sobbed. 

 

His hand trembled to catch the vial. The substance was sticky like caramel syrup, sweet, awfully thick. He took a gulp. 

 

It had an aftertaste like red passion, but underneath there was the feel of moist earth and lonely tears. 

 

It glided down his throat freezing everything in its path. 

 

He choked in thin hair, could not breathe. 

 

Draco inclined the bottle and took another gulp, and another, and another. A few drops had said the book... Draco didn't want to wake up,  **ever** . 

 

His heart stopped beating. 

* * *

 

(Harry-Blaise)

 

He had the sensation of walking along the edges of a spider's web, one false step could leave them trapped in the sticky silk to be devoured by the spider.

 

But until now they had been lucky, steadily ascending through basements without much trouble, even if they often lost their way, sometimes having to change route when they discovered a dementor on the corridor they intended to take.

 

It did not help that neither of them knew the way out. 

 

Most of the hour they had been walking they did not speak, exchanging only a few words here and there to decide their next step.

 

And that had been all their contact… When already having climbed two levels, and looking for a way to move from the second to the first basement,  Zabini broke the silence.

 

“Potter.”

 

Harry turned towards the vampire,taking in his intensely red gaze, that seemed to want to open his  skull and read all his thoughts. 

 

A combination of discomfort and stubbornness made him return an equally sharp look.

 

“Yes?”

 

Blaise made like he was to speak but… What to say? Why had he spoken to begin with? Potter was not going to be able to answer his questions. He couldn't tell him the reasons for why his best friend had fallen in love with him to the point of suicide.

 

One moment more passed  as he played in his head with all the unanswered questions. Maybe Blaise could have inquired about Potters intentions for with his friend, and demanded a promise under the threat of death, that he would take care of Draco.

 

But that was not what he wanted.

 

Potter had already proved that he was not, nor ever would be, appropriate for the fragile blonde.

 

His absolute inability to prevent all the pain that  had befallen his friend, indeed, being the cause of it, turned him into someone undeserving…

 

Still, Blaise needed him. 

He just could not get  Draco away on his own.

 

However, once safe... 

 

He opted for silence in the end.

 

Had already a bland answer on the tip of the tongue, thus to dispel the misgivings of the auror, when he noticed a shadow at Potter's back…

 

“Potter behind you!”

 

Harry turned in time to see the dementors claws descend upon him, unable dodge but managing to bring an arm between his neck and the sharp appendages at the last possible second. 

 

Warm blood soaked his robe where the beasts nails got embedded in his flesh, but he didn't stop to see the damage, kicking the dementor furiously in the chest, and throwing it back  a couple of metres, blaming his distracted mind for not sensing its presence sooner.

 

Unsurprisingly the creature recovered fast and attacked again. 

 

Protecting his wounded arm, Harry barely managed to avoid being  hurt this time. 

 

“Zabini lend me a hand!” he shouted.

 

That's when he saw the vampire, paralyzed in place, his pupils dangerously contracted as he surveyed his arm..

 

“Fuk!”

 

The dementor took advantage of the distraction and with a flush motion at his legs, swiped him to the ground. 

 

The ex-auror threw a punch as the monster fell over him hitting its jaw and making the bone creek, but that didn't stop the creature who made for his neck, crushing his trachea against the rock floor. 

 

Half choking, Harry fought wildly trying to shake it off. 

 

But the thing seemed immutable. Dry, black lips, began to descend upon his... 

 

The dementor savaged his memories, as Harry, half paralyzed by the horror of the experience and the lack of air, couldn't react.

 

It was horrible feeling like toast eaten crumb by crumb.

 

When suddenly, the creature was savagely torn off of him. 

 

Zabini threw the dementor against the wall where it crashed into the rock with a sickly broken sound.

 

Harry coughed violently managing to get up in time to see  the monster straightening too, ready to attack again. 

 

Blaise was dizzy... Merlin the smell of blood... it was intoxicating, alluring, impossible to ignore. And he was so thirsty… His beast roared inside, eager to be released. And his control weakened more and more, the longer he smelt Potter's blood.

 

HE WAS SO THIRSTY!

 

The dementor launched itself against him, thinking the vampire too taken by the spilled blood to defend himself in time, but Zabini's  unnatural reflexes were much faster than anticipated, and Blaise dodged to brutally attack with his own claws in the same fluid movement, tearing the creatures forearm.

 

Blood, black and coagulated dripped down the wound. It had a disgusting appearance, but its mere vision on his claws, the feeling of it on his skin, was enough to make Blaise lean dangerously on the edge of the precipice of his will.

 

That moment of doubt gave the creature the opportunity to conjure his aura of terror, that he launched as a wave against both Potter and himself.

 

Harry was not affected, its intermediate nature allowing him to ignore the feeling. But to Zabini... it was like seeing the sun come out, the vampire took refuge in the farthest corner. His body quivering in instintual terror.

 

The auror attacked in turn wrapping his arms around the neck of the dementor trying to break the spinal cord, before it could do anything else. 

 

No doubt that would not kill it, but at least it would disable the creature for a while. 

 

The monster trashed like a fish out of water and suddenly lunged on his back against the wall, crushing Harry and  pulling all the air from his lungs, managing to free himself, and was about to lunge at the auror, when someone shouted:

 

”Expecto patronum!” 

 

A silver otter came against the dementor, who fled giving a horrible screech. 

 

Harry stuck against the wall, terrified too, like he had never felt before, by the small translucent animal…  luckily  the spell faded quickly enough, allowing him to recover his breath.

 

“Are you injured?”

 

“Hermione?” 

 

His best friend came out of the shadows of the corridor looking like she was again at war. 

 

Dishevelled  hair framed her tired, determined face, as the creased and frayed black dress hugged her body, and the wand posed  threateningly on her hand.

 

Harry had never been so happy to see her pissed.

 

Mione was quick to take his arm matter of factly and cast a spell of diagnosis.

 

“What happened? And what are you two doing together? - asked without looking away from the wound.

 

Harry smiled crookedly.

 

“I needed help, he wanted to rescue Draco. More or less...that's it” 

 

He gazed at the vampire who remained at the corner, trembling visibly,  gaze on his wound and the blood still oozing from it.

 

“Okay, the gashes are not deep, stay still a moment while I heal you.” Hermione said, taking the explanation in stride.

 

Harry studied Zabini while his friend cast the healing spell that fused his flesh, and let his arm good as new.

 

Mione had always been excellent with any spell that she deemed to learn. 

 

The vampire looked torn, barely controlled.

 

“Thank you Mione.” he offered kindly grateful, but not taking his gaze from Zabini. 

 

She returned a small, tired smile, before turning towards the former slytherin.

 

“Do you need help?”

 

Zabini shaked his head no...but Hermione had already seen the tension lacing his body, and the dangerous red of his eyes. His gaze that of a madman ready to kill.

 

“Have you feed?” She asked and moved a couple of steps nearer.

 

“Hermione!” Harry took her arm, stopping Mione from going closer, concerned for her lack of fear at a starving vampire. 

 

However she gestured her friend to remain quiet, and although worried, Harry let her depart from his side.

 

“When did you last feed Zabini?” Asked again, now only a few steps away. 

 

Blaise couldn't look away from the female auror. She smelled soo good…  like cream cake and freshly made toast.  And he had to nail his claws on the stone of the floor he was sitting on, just to keep them away from her.

 

“I don't know. It is not easy to calculate the time here.”  voice low between clenched teeth. 

 

Hermione nodded, as confirming something she already knew.

 

“You need to feed.” rose, baring her own forearm. 

 

Blaise hissed.

 

“No! If I bite you now I will lose control.”

 

He didn't need to say what could happen, if so came to be. 

 

“Calm yourself, I have no intention of allowing you to bite me.”

 

Granger pointed her wand at her own self, and spoke an easy enough spell.

 

“Inodorous” The magic clung to the female auror taking away her smell, and thus, Blaise's hunger for her.

 

Zabini swallowed, now slightly more relaxed at her nearness, even so, when she conjured a bowl and put it in his hands, the connotations called forth his inner beast.

 

“Hold still while I fill it.” 

 

Blaise's pulse trembled in want.  The luscious desire of sinking his fangs deep into that creamy rosy skin. Of knowing the taste of her blood taken directly from her lips.

Wanting to tear the battered dress and explore the soft feminine curves while he sank into her, hardness and fangs both,  again, and again, and again.

 

He wondered where that thought had come from. But at that moment the sensual longing that filled him was such that little mattered the answer.

 

Hermione threw a small cutting spell on her wrist and let the bowl fill up with her inodorous blood, while she observed  Blaise. Attentive to any dangerous move, that could call for her to knock him out, least he lost his mind to the hunger. However, the vampire managed to control himself, distracted maybe by the deep red colour of her blood, he could not take his eyes off since the first drop fell on the bowl. 

 

The blood of Granger was still hot when Blaise took it to his lips, and it quickly heated his insides.

 

It was unlikely anything he had tried before, tasted like old books, freshly made cookies, cello melodies and toast dipped in honey. 

 

It tasted like home. 

 

He felt a deep yearning screw him inside, and wondered what would be like, to be able to bite the auror. To experience her flavor directly from the source. To smell her skin as well as listen to her heartbeat as he shipped from Granger's veins… But he dismissed the notion before it could take root. 

 

Now that he had a clear and free of hunger mind, he could no longer forget his concern for Draco, nor let his own desires distract him. 

 

He would not remain still while his best friend suffered. 

 

Blaise's thoughts seemed to blend in with the voice of the auror.

 

“We have to rescue Draco.”

 

Hermione healed her cut before putting a hand comfortingly on Harry's shoulder.

 

“I understand your want to depart immediately, Harry.” -she said gently- “But in your state you can't face the Dementor Lord.”

 

“Then all I need is to complete the transformation.” 

 

The determination and the intensity of his words took his friend by surprise… but only for a second. 

 

“You're right.”

 

“Good. And what we need for that?” Blaise intervened. 

 

A pity having to renounce the idea of killing Potter, since Dementors were immortal, but after the recent attack, he knew Granger was right.

 

Potter could not take even one Dementor on his own, how would he face the Lord of the tower in such a estate? To get Draco safe,  the idiot would have to fully change. 

 

Both aurors looked at him.

 

“What we need to complete the transformation.. is a soul.”

 

A soul.

* * *

 

Looking back, there had never been any doubt about who would be the sacrifice whose soul he would take, even if Hermione and him had never agreed about a sacrifice.

 

In insight both had known that if someone had to pay for the salvation of Draco, it would have to be the one who had condemned him. 

 

Tomas.

 

Usually she would have objected. Who were they to take justice into their own hands? Tomas`s punishment should be imposed by the law both aurors had made an oath to protect. But for once…

 

The guard had been sentenced, for the time being, and until further review, just to a couple of years in prison. As he testified, he did not know of the effects of the curse. And as there was no evidence of torture or rape, as Draco was not even considered human any longer... Thus the sentence had been substantially mild. 

 

That such a Monster would escape retalibelly unscathed... 

 

If there was a thing she did not tolerate it was injustice. And perhaps she shouldn't take it in her hands to administer punishment,  but if someone should be sacrificed for Draco, surely, it must to be the ex-guard.

* * *

 

(The Dementor Lord)

Night in the tower was always quiet. Full of the soft whispers of the Dementors, and the dim light of the moon. 

 

So when the Dementor Lord was returning to his room, and heard a sound; that of a million tiny bells ringing at the same time, the musical sigh of expensive glass breaking into a thousand pieces like faceted jewels. The strangeness of it led him to approach its source. 

 

Anywhere else the sound would have not attracted attention, but here it broke the silence for a moment, like a flash of lightning in the night.

 

It wasn't difficult to locate the way it had come from, and recalling that his lab was down the same path...  The connotations made him hiss like a serpent. 

 

Who could be so mad as to challenge him, entering a space that all the Tower knew, was forbidden?

 

It had never happened before.

 

Internally he cursed his father, whose new incarnation was the cause of the loosening of his power threads over the dementors,and thus the responsible of this act of disobedience.

 

Griever advanced furiously  freezing the slabs in his path, swallowing the light with his mere presence. 

 

The door was ajar when he arrived. Inside the laboratory was in mortuary silence, but there was something in the atmosphere... something strange in Azkaban, and much more inside the tower...

 

A tiny hard to perceive glow. 

 

His nostrils dilated to identify the fresh trail of a happy feeling. What was it doing here? The sensation devastating in its almost extinct beauty. And Griever felt the desire to drink it all in one gulp, like a strong liquor chupito. 

 

He opened the door, almost licking his lips, almost tasting the sweetness in his tongue. But when he entered... Hundreds of tiny glass fragments shone under the light of the torches. Pieces of a vial that had been shattered against the floor. The chair was overturned, and some of the instruments that had been on the huge table also rested on the ground, apparently dragged in his downfall by the only other present creature. 

 

The Lords breathing got stuck in his throat. His heart seemed to waver a moment... when his eyes fell on Draco's inert body laid at the center of the small disaster. 

 

The soft iridescent tone of the blonds skin, fragile as papyre, looked like a thin shell covered by the delicate cracks of his veins shadows under it. So delicate… almost on the verge of collapse. A toy of glass so broken and lacking of luster that only needed one touch more to break in pieces, like the vial on the ground. 

 

Pale strands of hair covered his face, buried in their silver shade. But Griever didn't need to see it to realize that his chest was not moving. 

 

Draco wasn't breathing. 

 

However the tiny light that he had perceived radiated from him.

 

And the Lord understood that it was that tiny ember, the only thing sustaining this thin shell Draco's body had become. 

 

Suddenly he wanted to protect it with all his strength. For a moment he was overwhelmed with the very extrange notion of wanting to take care of someone. But then, with a sudden inhalation, he managed to shake off the paralysis that had invaded him, and relegated the notion to the depths of his mind refusing even to recognize it. 

 

He leaned over Draco, and passing arm under his body, incorporated him against his chest, pushing aside the soft hair on his face, noting the deep eyecups and sunken cheeks, as seeing for the first time the devastation caused by the sadness in that thin, almost childlike young face.

 

A reddish substance already dry, much like blood, stained his pale lips... Griever rose his gaze, scanning the shelves. Trying to figure out which of the substances had been the one he had ingested. He knew all and each one of the antidotes to his potions, he just had to find out which he had taken, and could return Draco to life. Dementors  could not die after all, so even if he had drinked a poisson the process should be reversible. 

 

One by one he ruled out most of them... until he found an empty place in the old dark wood shelves.

 

A place that the remembered full.

 

One of the vials of the potion Betirako was missing.

 

“No…”

 

Draco had ingested the only potion he could not treat. A poison that could only be cured by a kiss. A kiss that could only be offered by a single person. And he was not the chosen one. Because he was not Dracos true love. His true love was Potter.

 

Draco would sleep forever... unless he allowed the auror to kiss him.

 

Anger and rage darkened his gaze, a shining black vacuum of the most visceral hatred. He looked at the boy in his arms, and for a moment wanted to crush the fragile body in retaliation. His claws closed around the delicate throat... but he could not exert any pressure.

 

Trying to harm him was like trying to tear himself. Finally... defeated... Griever let the delicate neck go, wrapping Draco in his robe. Cradling him like a child, protecting him with his body. 

 

The little white felt so fragile and  was so torn... but he was his.

 

Draco was his. And Griever would never,  **never** , let him go. 

 

The Lord raised him in his arms, and silent as a shadow, instinctive as all the creatures of the night, returned to the shelter of his den. Where he could wrap around his partner, and take care of him. Where he could plan the death of his enemy. 

 

The death of the one who had pushed Draco to the verge of suicide. 

 

Harry Potter, the auror… and his father.

  
**It will continue** .


	25. King

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His power could be breathed, could be tasted, could be feel on the skin and whisper in the ears. It had the call of a king. And all the dementors were his subjects.

Dementor's kiss 

Chapter 23- King

 

A month imprisoned is nothing for one  accustomed to live in Azkaban's sparse accommodations. 

 

He had everything he needed; a bed, a blanket and a pot. 

 

Thomas was a very frugal man. 

 

But he had never experienced Azkaban’s ungentleness from inside a cell, and the notion of staying there for who knew how long, granted at his nerves unlikely the presence of the dementors, and their too cold aura. 

 

The small and cramped space was like a box around him, from within he could not escape. However, the claustrophobic sensation had little to do with the actual room, and a lot with the memory of a very furious auror.

 

It picked at his insides and made Thomas pace his small cell, again, and again. 

 

He didn't know what had come to pass after he was knocked out by Potter, and it was turning him manic. 

 

Following his awakening here, no one had deemed to speak to him. Not even Henry, his old friend, who sometimes he saw making his routine checks. No matter how many times, or how loud he called out, Henry didn't even look his way, fury etched in every line of his face.

 

Regret was eating at Thomas like fire.

 

His mind was plagued by doubts about what he had done to the fragile blond.

 

Every time he remembered Malfoy’s too thin face as he begged for Potter's life, the look on his eyes… the regret and the guilt choked him.

 

Sometimes he wished for the memories to be erased. When the anguish became too strong, he wanted to take them out so bad… there were deep scratches on his torso, where his own nails had dug, trying to root them out by physical force. 

Scars painted in desperation.

 

If only he knew what had been of Draco… 

 

Sometimes, Thomas tried to comfort himself by thinking Potter must have saved him, since he had been unable to stop the auror. 

 

But he didn't knew for sure, and could only wonder, again and again, trapped between the teeth of his own guilt, writhing in the constant agony his days were turning into.  

 

So when they came, he didn't even register their presence at first. 

 

**oOo**

 

Searching through Azkaban's first floor  wasn't easy, but in the end, they found their prey.

 

The corridor was scantily illuminated, and the ever present unnatural cold, consequence of the dementors, seemed deeper there. 

 

Most of the prisoners were quite, unmoving, and silent shadows. Too drained to care. Too near death to even register their presence. Some of them still had the energy to cry and sob now and again. A few had fallen into craziness, and howled their ripped minds to everyone and no one. 

 

But the inmate they were searching for didn't act like all the others. 

This one seemed obsessed by the measures of his cell, and paced it like a caged rat in search of escape. 

 

This ignited Harry's furious hate.

 

How could this man, who had wounded Draco so deeply, still have the gall to search for escape, when the punishment he had been handed was so disgustingly small?

How dare he? 

 

Harry felt his hands flex, in want of a wand that wasn't there.

 

**oOo**

 

Blaise recognised his smell the moment they entered the hallway, acrid, unwashed and manly: Thomas.

The man who had… he didn't want to think about the old guard touching his best friend.

 

A vicious snake like hiss tore out of his throat, and made the man lift his gaze.

 

“Thomas...”, greeted Harry. 

 

The light went dimmer at the sound of his voice, the shadows became gritting deeper darkness that clung to his clothes like begging hands. 

 

“Potter!? What…”, The changes. The changes on the One who lived, made Thomas want to cringe and beg. He didn't even realise there were two more people with him. 

 

The aura within Potter felt like poisonous murky waters. It spoke of hunger, of devious hate and terrible rage. But above all else, it called the ultimate end, the extinction of the self, the devouring of a soul… Thomas soul. 

 

“Hermione.” Harry said. And she called the password that opened the cell. The same one they had used when investigating Draco's disappearance, and that now only she could use, since Harry's permission and key to Azkaban's wards had been erased. 

 

The door swung inwards. 

 

Thomas cried out like a wounded bird, as Potter's claws came at him. 

 

It didn't matter.

 

Harry's darkest instincts were pushing to the surface, coating his feelings and thoughts, like a cancer metamorphosing his host. This was no longer about the need to complete the ritual, not about the hunger chewing his guts, it became pure and sadistic revenge. 

 

The pleasure of tearing the meath bag that called itself a man, into ribbons of guts, blood, and bits of bone. 

 

He wanted Thomas to beg, to cry, to call for death with the desperation of a burning man, only to have it denied a little longer, since he didn't merit any kinder treatment. Just like the guard had tortured Draco to the end of sanity, Harry wanted to inflict the same on him.

 

Pain for pain, till his victim couldn't take anymore.

 

**oOo**

 

Hermione could taste the curse in the air. 

 

It's dark magics call for completion, tightening vice like around her friend. 

Possessing Harry with its terrible mermaid call.

 

However she could do nothing but watch, struggling to remember what they were doing, and why they were there for.

 

Her instincts, unable to handle the pressure of such corruption, screamed for her to run before she was tainted too.

 

Hermione took a step back, fighting to bring some oxygen into her lungs. Telling herself this was necessary, but the tremor in her limbs betrayed her.

 

When suddenly, a movement to her side caught her attention. 

 

It was Zabini.

 

He was watching the carnage about to take place, like a predator a mouse. His gaze had turned bright red, his fangs and claws aggressively at show, crouched about to partake in it. 

If he did, Hermione knew the vampire and Harry would fight for the prey. Bot consumed by their lust for revenge.

 

Strangely, this gave Hermione something other than the black magic to focus onto, and brought her the calm she needed desperately.

 

**oOo**

 

Blaise could feel his blood boil with the need to take the guard down, open his ribcage like a shell, and rip out his heart to taste the blood directly from the source.

 

But when he was about to leap, a delicate hand came to rest on his shoulder. 

 

“Zabini… no.”

 

The old Slytherin looked, to see Granger fazing him with something akin to… he didn't know what, and the strangeness of it made him pause mistified. 

 

“He needs to be punished...” That's when he understood her look. 

 

Her eyes were devoid of fear, repugnance or distrust. They were clear seeing, non judgmental, irises. The same look he had spied before in other grey and black ones. In Draco's and Pansy's eyes. And he couldn't understand how he didn't see it before.

 

Since he was turned, only his two best friends had faced Blaise with utter acceptance in them. And he felt his blood get warm at the notion of someone else caring for him so.

 

“Leave him.” She insisted, “His souls is about to be extinguished, I think that's punishment enough.” 

 

The calm of her voice acted like a balm on Blaise's bloodlust. 

 

She was right, it was punishment enough. 

 

The horror in Thomas face when finally he Saw them, and started begging for help, only to understand he wouldn't get any, was enough.

 

He faced Thomas with hate in his eyes,  and watched with sadistic pleasure. 

 

And when the begging turned to screams, Blaise laughed with utter abandon. 

 

He hadn't believed Potter had it in him, but how delicious it felt to be wrong. 

 

**oOo**

 

Hermione turned her back on the carnage, but couldn't stop the sounds from reaching her ears; blood curling screams and cracking, ripping, humid noises. She felt horrible by staying still as a man was tortured, but she had known all along this was to happen when she decided to help Harry, and she wouldn't back away now. 

 

Only when it was, finally, silent, did she deem to look at the outcome… she shouldn't have. Thomas wasn't dead yet, and the only reason he was silent, was because Harry's lips on his enforced it.

 

It took a second for her to understand what she was seeing, as gentle light passed from the guards lips to her friends, and when she finally did, she had to bring a hand to her mouth to stiff any sound she could have made. 

 

Hermione trembled in horror, feeling suddenly as nothing could be right after this. Like the world had become a darker place… then, when she couldn't take it anymore, someone embraced her gently against their chest. 

 

Warm enveloped Hermione into a safe  cocoon. 

 

Blaise had felt her trembling, and at seeing the female courageous auror, stifle her voice like a little terrified girl, the vampire had been taken by the impulse of comforting her. 

 

He didn't believe there would be a day, Granger's strength would falter. But even less so, that he would care for her. 

 

Blaise tightened his hold, surprising himself with the strong desire to protect her. 

 

Hermione pressed her nose into the old and worn-out fabric of his shirt, and inhaled his unique scent. 

 

Blaise felt her deliciously warm breath, against his skin through the wool, and smiled despite himself, taking in her homey scent, and precious weight against his body. 

 

“Do not worry.” He murmured. “It will be okay”

 

“I Know.” The auror spoke on his shirt.

 

And it was a testament to their feelings, that none of the two wished to acknowledge the little trembling on their voices. 

 

Blaise gazed at Thomas dying form, and knew revenge didn't taste as sweet, as Granger's hands on his back.

**oOo**

 

He couldn't but try to scream, to howl, has he gritted in Potter's arms like a dying worm trying to escape.

 

But it was like pretending to break a dam with a water puddle. 

 

Looking into green hateful eyes, he recognised death, and as his broken limbs thrashing in agony finally have out, Thomas understood what was about to take place, and his mind exploded in broken shards of craziness, unable to cope. 

 

**oOo**

 

Everything seemed to have shrunk into a tight tunnel focused on a dark repugnant soul, that seemed to shriek from inside the meath bag called Thomas. 

 

The curse pushed him to devour it, and Harry ran with the magic in a crazy race to completion. 

 

His claws were embedded in the other man's arms, keeping him trapped, and he flexed them, shredding more muscle, only to feel more warm blood trickle down his hands, as his prey convulsed in pain. 

 

And when the guard opened his mouth further, trying to cry, Harry gulped down the strangled sound, and pulled at his essence  with all the need, corrosive hate, and hunger, he felt. 

 

In his mind, as he devoured memory after memory, there was only one image; the broken, tear streaked, face of Draco. So thin and terrible pale,  that day he had declared his love for Harry between the bars of his cell, as he turned his back on  the only man who ever loved him. 

 

The impossible pain and remorse of that memory, was what pushed Harry to tear the last and heavy thread, that tied him to humanity. 

 

The body on his arms convulsed, Thomas eyes rolled in their sockets, the last spark of soul left his breath… and Harry gulped it down.

 

**oOo**

 

Blaise shaw Potter devour the last bright bit of soul. The dead eyes of the guard locked into nothing, at the same time, his body slided to the floor like a slug.

 

Harry stayed still, transfixed, assimilating the sensation of a soul not his own, inside himself, as it started dissolving into him. It was disgustingly estrange, much like petroleum spread into a toast. Even so… it felt somehow… appealing. 

 

He thought maybe this was how a smoker felt; it didn't taste good, it smelt disgusting, but my God it was relaxing.  

 

He blinked feeling much better, with his mind clear and no magic pulling at him. 

 

Not far for where he stood, Hermione rested in Zabini's arms, and the old Slytherin looked at him with a curious mix of approval and calculation. Like finding him good for something at last. 

 

He was about to ask Hermione if she was right, when suddenly he fell to the floor like a house of cards. 

 

He couldn't breathe, he couldn't cry,  just grit in agony. He felt like a snail being pressed into a too narrow shell. 

 

His magic was stepping into his flesh, guts and bones. And it was too much, Harry couldn't take it.

 

Too much power for a body so small. A giant trying to fit into his skin. It wouldn't match. Harry would explode like a water  balloon. 

 

The pain went up and up, till his blood seemed to boil and his skin melt. He was a volcano about to explode. A being whose nucleus was liquids fire. 

 

Finally, one shredded powerful howl, left his throat like a current, and mercifully Harry fell unconscious. 

 

**oOo**

 

Hermione and Blaise saw Harry fall.

 

Before he was fully down, she had already left Zabini's arms to go to her friend.

 

“Harry?!”, She lifted his head to better study him. 

 

The physical change hadn't started yet, and it wouldn't until he was under the moonlight. Thus, the longer he stayed deprived of it, the deeper would be his pain. 

 

“-Zabini!”, She called to the vampire already crouched at her side. “I need your help to bring him to an exit not far from here.”

 

Before he could ask, however, Hermione was already speaking, as she passed her friends arm around her shoulders.

 

“He needs moonlight to complete the transformation, and we only have maybe two hours left.” 

 

“Okay, let me carry him.” And he took Potter from her, carrying the new dementor under his arm like a Potato sack. “Open the way?” He suggested raising an elegant brow. 

 

Hermione couldn't stop her own smile from blooming.

 

“This way.”

  
  


**oOo**

 

Thanks Merlin, they didn't take long to find the broken stairs Harry had spoken to her about. 

 

A few metres of stone that ran along the exterior of the prison, until they dropped into free fall, where the steps had been destroyed decades ago. 

 

The waning moons light illuminated the stone with her soft coldness, and shone in the waves hundred of feet below them, where the ocean broke brave in the night against the rock shore of Azkaban's. 

 

Carefully they deposited Harry in the floor, and almost instantaneously, the  light began to condense around him in tiny luminous specks of strange beauty.   
  
Hermione and Blaise took a step back, taking in the mystic scene that was developing before them...   
  
That's when they felt it.   
  
The unnatural cold.   
  
A cold they knew too intimately.   
  
A frost that could only be provoked by...   
  
Dementors.    
  
They raised their eyes to the highest place of Azkaban's.   
  
Descending from the tower, floating as torn veils of absolute darkness, dozens of dementors were falling towards them.   
  
Hermione raised her wand, Blaise showed his fangs.   
  
Then, chaos exploded.   
  


**oOo**

  
The silver otter ran around them protecting its owner and Blaise as best it could, as Hermione brandished her wand like a whip.

 

At Zabini's s feet rested a few, ruined,  dementores, that had committed the stupidity of thinking they could face a cornered, and therefore, lethal, vampire.

 

Maybe they couldn't be killed, but they weren't immune to dismemberment.    
  
Behind both, keep safe by them, Potter was unconscious, wrapped by the delicate studding of light under which  were taking place the changes that would turn him into one of those horrors.     
  
It had been already almost half an hour of  both, human and vampire, resisting the battering. But they weren't going to last much longer. 

 

The pressure of the terror aura was too intense. And if not for Granger's patronus keeping it at bay, it would have swallowed them already. The female auror was stubborn, and sturdier than Zabini had anticipated, but nevertheless, the small silver animal was weakening.   
  
Hermione, under the pressure of too much darkness, found more and more difficult the calling of the happy feelings  needed to support it. Furthermore, she was already exhausted.   
  
Finally, the otter went out in a brief sigh of light. 

 

Immediately the nearest dementor threw himself against her, being  intercepted by a furious vampire who brutally embedded his claws in its neck, splitting it and throwing the head to the waves far below.   
  
Black, freezing blood, splashed her.   
  
Another monster attacked Blaise's back, pushing him towards where the stairs  broke in a vertical fall towards the ocean. 

 

He struggled crushing the arm of the creature. But another dementor, following the thought of his companion, hurried to strike at his legs before he could duck.    
  
Zabini lost his balance and fell  backwards. 

 

Hermione, who had been fighting against another one of them, shouted and leaped ahead.   
  
Her hand managed  to close around Blaise's wrist, and the impulse and heavy weight threw her to the floor, where she landed trying to catch her breath. Her arm painfully thrown over the edge, supporting the weight of the vampire with all her strength.   
  
Blaise's fingers closed in turn around her wrist, returning the grasp, as the claws of his other hand, grasped the rock wall for better support.    
  
Until he raised his gaze, and saw the dementors hovering over Granger.

 

Unprotected, supporting him, she couldn't protect herself from them.   
  
He let go of her wrist, but her fingers remained stubbornly around his.    
  
“Drop me!” Blaise shouted.   
  
“Not!” - Granger's voice cut off by the effort of supporting him. Nonetheless she remained where she was, refusing to let him fall.

 

She wouldn't let him fall.   
  
“I will support myself with my other hand! Let me go!” 

 

Blaise knew his grasp in the rock was precarious, and that it would not held, but he couldn't  let those monsters  devour Hermione.   
  
“It won't support you and you know it!” 

 

The first monsters settled at her side. She could feel his freezing breath at her nape, however Hermione didn't falter. She remained stubbornly in place.   
  
“DROP ME, IS GOING TO KILL YOU!”

 

Blaise twisted trying to free himself, but she fought his attempt just as hard.    
  
“NO!”  

 

Granger  ground her teeth together with a  groan when the dementor sucked her  first recollection.   
  
Blaise shouted. An impotent sound of pain, not for him.   
  
“LEAVE ME! WHAT DO YOU CARE? YOU AND I HAVE NEVER BEEN FRIENDS!” , He thrashed frantically.   
  
“ YOU MATTER TO ME! I AM NOT GOING TO LET YOU FALL BLAISE!”- A furious blush invaded her cheeks, her eyes shone with barely contained tears.

 

Hermione did not even know what it was that she was feeling; An embryo of something, of it she was sure. And she would never discover of what, if she allowed that pale wrist to slip between her fingers.   
  
Blaise snapped his mouth shut without words. His heart gave a lurch, and he had to ground his teeth together, to stop the string of profanities he would have wanted to shout. A vampire couldn't shed tears, but if he could have done it, Blaise would have felt his eyes water with the unfairness of it all.   
  
He felt that strange, undefinable, still vague sensation, she must feel, too. That's why he needed to do this.   
  
He plunged his claws into her hand.   
  
She cried out.   
  
“I'm sorry, so sorry… Hermione.”  he smiled sadly. Hermione's eyes dilated lime enormous and scared depths of liquid candy.    
  
His wrist slipped between her fingers. 

 

“ **BLAISE!** ”    
  
The floor trembled.   
  
Azkaban's own foundations shook with a darkness more intense that the own night. A bulging obscurity deeper than the entrails of the land. A humid blackness like a tomb.   
  
It's asphyxiating cold sneaked into the bodies and minds of all that were there. Threads of fog, myriads of crystals of ice that seemed to get below their own skin.   
  
Hermione got up, tremulous, looked over her shoulder…   
  
And all the dementores … fell down on their knees.   
  
The origin of the vortex was a dementor. But his tunic … was different from all others. 

 

Longer, darker, it spread around him like the mantle of a king.  Worn out, black depths of gloom. It didn't reflect the light, it swallowed it.   
  
Fog rings whirled around him. His aura  was like an extension of the shadows. It wrapped him as the caress of a lover.   
  
His power could be breathed, could be tasted, could be feel on the skin and whisper in the ears. It had the call of a king. And all the dementors were his subjects.   
  
But, though his presence was creating ice in all surfaces, it warmed like a blaze in the chest. She felt burn under the caress of a frozen fire.   
  
The being turned towards her … and the hood fell down on his shoulders.   
  
The face of his best friend returned her look. But his eyes … had lost the iris, and the pupils looked out at her from the bottom of his cranium, made flames of  green. All his eye had turned the unnatural, terrible frozen shade  of the avada kedavra.   
  
His features had sharpened, as if the bones wanted to cut through the meat, and his hair, black as raven, whirled around his shoulders in mad curls of darkness. 

 

His skin was the pale whiteness of bone. And when he raised a hand to help her stand, Hermione saw that it was black, burnt, charred dark, as if his skin there, had turned coal, and ash.   
  
“Harry?”   
  
The monster assented.   
  
She broke in sobs.

  
**It will continue.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's only two chapters left, let's hope for a happy ending. XD


	26. Revenge

**Revenge**

  
  


(Draco)

 

He fell down a spiral ever more vertiginous, faster and deeper into a bottomless darkness that seemed about to swallow him.

 

When suddenly, the fall gentled and gentled, until it wasn't as much falling as it was floating down. Like a feather softly descending thrown… not air, but a black and thick liquid, that enveloped him in homely feelings.

 

It could have been black coffee, or an exotic shampoo. 

 

He had a vague recollection it was a long time since he experienced those things, but the memory disappeared a second later, as he continued falling slower and slower. 

 

At the bottom, far below him, he caught the sight of soft light, not unlikely that of flame through smoked glass. 

 

Curious, Draco manoeuvred gracefully in the air, watching the strange phenomenon as he came nearer and nearer. 

 

His ears got clogged as when one descends into deep waters, or ascends into a too high height. He shook his head, upset with the sensation, and the plugs eased with a soft “Pop”. 

With it, sound reached him.

 

Until then, there had been only silence, so Draco strained to make it out, anxious to understand the different vibrations. 

 

There was an oldie song, intoned by an age-worn male voice,  rich and thick like a good tobacco leaf, and the screeching of an antique violin. 

 

Old music instruments always sang better than new ones -more felt and knowing-, and Draco fancied he could smell darkened ancient varnish, and delicate dust, in the melody. 

 

Bit by bit, he came aware of other voices beside the song; conversations, laughs and lost words. Here and there, a curious collage of accents, deep and high, smooth and excited… A lovely cacophony he was sure to have heard before. 

 

But the memories eluded him. 

 

Deeper and deeper below him, other sounds became noticeable; the rasp of chairs against wooden floors, the meeting of metal against pottery, the jingle of glass, the rustle of cloth… 

 

Now he could nearly touch the bottom of the thick liquid he was falling through -an strange deposit like smoked glass- that keep him away from the light shining beyond it. 

 

His feet touched the spongy surface, and he began to sink in it like a spoon on gelatine. 

 

Panic began to rise inside Draco, as he was engulfed inch by inch, and he trashed trying to get free. However, his twisting only managed to sink him faster. 

 

Finally, the substance enveloped him wholly into it's soft deeps. 

 

Draco screamed…  would have if he could, as the thickness absorbed something from him. He didn't know what, and the sensation was terrifying. His heart beat faster than the wings of a hummingbird inside his chest, he couldn't breathe, tried desperately to escape…

 

And then, the bottom of the substance exploded like a bubble, and Draco felt himself fall again for a terrifying second… until his eyelids fluttered open. 

 

“Are you okay, Draco?”

 

“...Pansy?”- Draco righted himself on the chair he found himself seated in. Where was he? What had happened?

 

He looked around disoriented. The sounds and voices he had been hearing, came from the people around him. 

 

“Where are at a… cafe?” he muttered barely loud enough to be heard, as his heart calmed down progressively. 

 

Pansy nodded with a sassy smile curving her lips, “You fell asleep again? Seriously Draco, if you keep studying so much, you will fall asleep the exam day.”- she playfully tapped him in the forehead with one of her fingertips. And Draco had the odd feeling he had already lived that moment. 

 

“It was… a dream?”, the blond looked around again. It was a somewhat antique place. In a corner there was an old man playing a violin, and singing nicely a song he thought he knew, but couldn't remember… even so, he knew the melody to be the one he had listened to when falling. 

 

“Draco, Pansy! Make me place, camo on.”, the cheery voice of his best friend took him from his thoughts. 

 

Pansy began picking up the books, scrolls, feathers and inkwells, Draco hadn't been aware were in the table. And Blaise put the tray he was carrying in the gap created in the island of books, letting Draco see what he had brought; a chocolate smoothie (the favourite of Blaise), one of strawberry flavour (the favourite of Pansy), and a last one of vanilla (Draco's own favourite). With them there was a plate full of a variety of cookies and chocolates. And the cream that topped the glasses was as thick and smooth as butter. 

 

“There, your favourite.” Blaise gifted him a brilliant smile, handing him the vanilla one. Still disoriented, Draco extended his hand to take it... and for a second, the face of his best friend was eclipsed by the same face stained by crimson tears. 

 

“Blaise?” His voice sounded lost, even to his ears. 

 

“What's the matter Draco? You feeling unwell?” with a small gesture of worry, a tanned hand touched his forehead. It was warm and smooth, and it's touch calmed him. 

 

“It's nothing, just a bad dream.” smiled kindly and took the offered smoothie. It had only been a bad dream… was it not? 

 

The taste of vanilla and cinnamon flooded his senses, deleting all his worries. His friends chatted between themselves about the finals. Around them nearly everyone else where other students of Hogwarts, that had come to Hogsmeade in their free weekend. What could there be wrong?

 

Carefully he ignored the feeling in his chest, that spoke something was missing. Everything was perfect… but he missed something.

 

**oOo**

 

Draco's body was icy cold, his chest still, his breathing extinguished. His time forcibly stopped. Forever trapped in that last moment he closed his eyes. 

 

Griever enveloped him with his arms, his head resting on his chest. 

 

It wasn't much, but Griever satisfied himself with having Draco at his side. At least for now. 

 

They were in Griever's rooms, the Lord reclined against the headboard of the enormous bed, and the fragile blond lying comfortably on his arms. This way, without tears marring his cheeks, not laments on his lips, Griever could lie to himself, and think Draco was there because he had chosen to, maybe because he felt something for him. 

 

He caressed the smooth skin of his cheek, and kissed the icy and delicious lips of the sleeping beauty. 

 

As Griever already expected, Draco didn't wake up, there wasn't even a flutter of delicate silver lashes.  

 

The blonde wouldn't wake up, not for him at least. 

 

For a moment, the Lord felt the urge of screaming in frustration, but he restrained himself, unwilling to break the illusion of peace he had created. Instead, he kissed the fair crown, sweet and caringly. And asked himself what the angelical blonde would be dreaming of, and wished it was about him. 

 

**oOo**

 

Blaise's mane, his beautiful black curls, tousled by the wind of the incoming storm, caught for an instant her gaze. She didn't have strength left. A vision of pearl-white seafoam,  tangled in those jet black locks assaulted Hermione like a premonition. 

 

Hundred of meters below them, the foam of the waves, only white shadows through the black night, seemed to want to take him for themselves. Drag Blaise from her weakening grab, take him into their deeps, and cradle the vampire in the embrace of a lover, to forever keep him from her. 

 

The pale wrist slipped from her grasp...

 

“NO!”

 

For a second, time seemed to stop into an agonising moment; the abyssal black pupils dilated in naive surprise, the lips beginning to shape a grateful smile… the grab Blaise had in the stone gave out. 

 

Time came back, speeding up dizzily as he fell... his body broke the surface of the brave sea, and was engulfed by the waves.

 

Mione felt blood slide down her fingers, there were Blaise's claws had bitten. Felt tears burning her cheeks. Her heart shrink nearly into collapse. 

 

She stood motionless at the precipice border… her eyes fixed where the vampire had disappeared. 

 

There, in that last second of desperate craziness, she had felt something… something more intense than anything she had felt before for any other man. 

 

And she had lost him.

 

Hermione curled her wounded hand against her chest, her lips brushing the gouges on her flesh, intimately, almost  reverently, in a kiss full of sadness. The auror knew dozens of spells to ease a wound like that. Hundreds of potions and ointments that could make it disappear like it had never been in the first place. But the mere notion of using them… She took a trembling breath.

 

Let it heal on its own.

 

Let it scar, since those marks on her skin would be the only thing left of him for her. The proof of Blaise's sacrifice, and his parting gift. 

 

The first drops of the incoming storm finally started to fall, dampening her mane, and blending with her tears.

 

**oOo**

 

(Griever)

 

He had sensed clearly when Potter started to change, and his dementors, obedient, had come to his command. The auror would had been devoured, and he could have rested peacefully, knowing no one remained in the world, who could take Draco from him. 

 

But the events hadn't developed as planned.

 

The tower had trembled, like a big animal that stretches. It's own foundation groaning, sort of uttering a welcome to a master long waited for.

 

And suddenly, all of Griever's power threads -his commanding of the dementors- had dissolved into nothing.

 

He didn't need to move from the bed, to sense Potter's aura. 

 

Icy, burning… a terrible flame that could only belong to one. The magic of Gryffindor made into a fathomless darkness, alluring and as vertiginous as an hurricane. 

 

Somehow those pathetic fragments of soul had botched it up… and they would pay. 

 

Griever raised elegantly from the bed, unfolding his aura like a majestic cape of power and darkness. If he was to fight his father, he would do so as who he was; the Lord of the tower. 

 

Yet, he remained an instant more, treasuring with his gaze the slender and moon-pale body abandoned on the worn red velvet quilt. Draco's skin glowed softly in the candlelight, like a gem.  **_His_ ** gem. And so he would remain. Griever wouldn't let the auror take Draco from him, even if it meant no seeing him come awake ever again. 

 

Reverently, he touched a kiss to the clear forehead. 

 

“I will be back soon.”, he muttered. 

 

His words didn't get a response. Never would. 

 

Silence feed the flames of Griever's hate.

 

Everything was that man's fault.  **EVERYTHING.**

 

He came to the window, from where his nemesis could be seen at the broken landing of stone, some floors below. The Lord’s hate condensed the glass, and froze every surface in the room with a crystalline sound. The candles were snuffed, dark took the place. 

 

Potter may be powerful, but he didn't have his knowledge, his hundred years practice, and didn't how to master that power to his will. 

 

And  **he,** The Dementor Lord, would make him understand why every living man feared him. 

 

**oOo**

 

Harry could feel the darkness pumping through his veins, it's strength present in all atoms of his body. Running through him, possessing him, filling him. 

 

A black tide that murmured like a thousand insects. 

 

Knew he could call and it would surrender to his wishes. It was an intoxicating and dangerous feeling. And for a few minutes he was filled by it, taken, stages by it's current, utterly detached from his surroundings. 

 

The new dementor let himself get drunk in it, be enchanted by the craving for power he found himself under. Harry could devour any soul in Azkaban, greedily take his memories not unlikely a child might with the cookie jar. 

 

Fill himself to the brim, get surfeited to the most absolute satisfaction.

 

But when took a first step, controlled by the storm in his mind… a memory pierced him like a silver needle. 

 

An image of grey eyes painted in sadness, and full with a broken love, that begged the comfort of his embrace. Draco…

 

_ NO!  _

  
  


What had he been doing? 

 

With steely determination Harry reigned in the feelings that had been about to change him into a monster. And they, as if he had passed some unfathomable trial, fled to the recesses of his mind giving back his lucidity. 

 

Stunned, he took in his surroundings, seeing Hermione for the first time, shrunken in herself at the cliff's edge. Looking like a little girl inside a nightmare.

 

Disregarding the dementors kneeling around him, he crouched at his best friend's side, embraced her, and caressed her hair, as an older brother would have trying to comfort a little sister. 

 

“Harry!”, Mione embraced him back with her remaining strength, breaking into hysterical sobs. 

 

Her best friend was cold, but somehow, that searing warm that was intrinsically Harry, was still there, reassuring her, and diminishing the icy sadness inside. 

 

“What has happened?” Harry asked. The velvety caress of his voice, like  dark cloth against her mane. 

 

Hermione trembled at the alien quality of his voice. But as long as Harry was Harry, no matter the physical changes he undertook, she would always love him like a brother. 

 

“Zabini…”

 

Harry followed her gaze to the waves and stones marrying the cliff's bottom… and his arms tightened around her. 

 

The old Slytherin and him never quite got along, but he had been Draco's best friend, and must have meant something for Hermione. 

 

But what comforting words he was to offer died on his lips, when he felt that other presence.

 

“Hermione, run inside.” 

 

The Dementor Lord was there.

 

He expanded his awareness if the auras and feelings around him -that strange sense all dementors had- he felt the prostrating dementors, his friend. 

 

Harry could feel her memories, like brilliantly coloured candy in a store front. Very enticing. 

 

He threw away his awareness of her, and kept searching, reaching farther with his mental tendrils… and he found it. The source of the terrible aura. 

 

In the tower, behind the grandiose dusty window. Another presence as terrifying as his own, a darkness that threatened to swallow everything in It's pat, studied Harry.

 

The whisper of despair, hate, anger, accompanying the other like a mantle of power, revolted him. But when he was withdrawing his consciousness,  behind the Lord, almost drowned in his heady presence, a small and beautiful like a little star, the brightness of a delicate fragile aura captured his awareness.    
  
It called, whispered for Harry, and besought him cooing for his protection with the weak whimper of a flame that's going out. Sweet, soft, silvery and unsubstantial as moonlight. He had already felt this. Had touched that essence before.    
  
Harry felt his instincts scream in agony. The desire to protect, to care, to love, to make his, that  so pure aura burned his insides ... Draco.   
  
A low growl left his throat, threatening. Around him, the dementors raised their heads in expectation. 

 

They couldn't have two masters.   
  
Air itself gasped in horror when both auras clashed. Even at this distance they sought one another in fury, trying to tear each other apart.   
  
“Griever Get down! It Let's get this sorted!’ Harry called.   
  
The storm that had been brewing, chose that moment to break into a gust of wind, that swept his words madly toward the tower.   
  
A water curtain burst onto Azkaban drenching everyone with thick raindrops. Sea waves driven by the sudden power of the hurricane, tore savagely against the rocks in a roar of foam and currents.   
  
Harry called for his power, felt it tingling on his fingertips. Blood fast inside his veins. The green ember's of his eyes glowed in the night, his hair and tunic tendrils of darkness twisted by the wind, made him into a portray if craziness..

  
The Dementor Lord opened the window,  and it's shutters knocked against stone walls, without breaking the glass. The magic of Gryffindor  permeating it even now.   
  
The powerful Lord of the tower came into the storm.   
  
He descended from the heights as a nightmare's shadow. Gliding through  lightning, fog and rain. 

 

Water froze on his robe, creating spectral icicles. His  hood's shadows barely concealing the ghost of a sadistic smile.   
  
Both auras twisted and searched, like trying to grab each other.

 

Green embers, and black wells, locked in a murderous look, challenging through the night.   
  
“Your madness at coming here will destroy you, Potter.” the icy whisper  did not touch Harry. Their essences  too close in power to really be affected.   
  
“Maybe. But I could not abandon Draco to your mercies.”   
  
The words, despite the soft murmur of darkness in which they had been sung,  came coated in love, passion and protective longing.   
  
They angered Griever as nothing could have.   
  
The sincerity in them, a sharp blade  implying he would hurt the fragile blond... And the notion that it had been so... He couldn't stand it.   
  
Griever attacked.   
  
And they tangled in fierce fighting with claws and fangs. Their feral nature laid bare for all to see.   
  
Black blood splattered them both.   
  
Their power dimmed the night swallowing the light of even the smallest star. Lighting and thunder crossed the skies, totally unhinged in searing flashes of light. Hurricane gusts that seemed to want to destroy the prison itself. Waterspouts that barely allowed sight. Giant waves hitting again, and again, against rocks that looked like skeletal fingers...   
  
Nature unleashed in all its monstrous  magnificence, responding to the confrontation of two colossal powers.   
  
Griever slammed him with inhuman strength against the prison wall. Chunks of rock fell into the raging sea. Harry groaned as he felt his ribs  broken before the impact.   
  
The monster encircled his throat with sharp claws,  squeezing with all his strength, seeking to break his neck.   
  
And Harry let him do it. A nightmarys smile gracing his lips, and sharp knife-like teeth showing.   
  
The broken ribs no longer hurt. As the new dementor felt  bones crunch under his flesh, rebuilding themselves in a matter of seconds.   
  
With one fluid motion, Harry threw his arm forward through the ribcage of the Lord, just as if it had been dry wood.   
  
They stood, faces only a few centimeters apart, measuring, and knowing that they hated each other. They would kill his opponent if they could. But  Dementors could not die. 

 

Thus, this was  a duel for the leadership of the tower, and Draco's possession.

 

Potter's aura lashed out at Griever's own, wrapping it in tendrils threatening to snuff it out. Harry's smile got wider, nearly sensual in his satisfaction.

 

“Surrender yourself, Griever.”, murmured softly, seemingly languorous. 

 

A savage roar broke from the Lord's throat. He would not tolerate it. Would not let his father's newest incarnation take away his leadership… and Draco. 

 

Griever squeezed harder, feeling Potter's neck finally break, and at the same time writing in the agony of his heart getting crushed, and his aura shredded. 

 

He let out a hiss of pain, involuntary and corrosive.

 

His enemies neck was already healing, as was the pumping inside his ribcage.

 

Taken by hate and rage, Griever brought Potter near by his tunic, letting his loose savage instinct control his movements.

 

His lips pressed against his foes in a passionate kiss.

 

Harry felt the Lord Dementor trying to wrest his soul.   
  
The eagerness with which  the monster devoured his memories... That freezing, disgusting, horrible feeling that resembled being crumbled bit by bit, like he was a toast.   
  
Harry roared beastly and struck with all his strength Griever's face. His jaw gave way under the impact, breaking inward, several of his teeth broke and fell out of his mouth in all directions, accompanied by black and sticky blood.   
  
The creature screamed in agony and clutched to his mouth running away from him toward the tower.   
  
For a moment Harry was perplexed by the sudden escape... until he realized where he was going. The window he had entered,  gave way to the room where he had sensed Draco's aura.   
  
“NO!”,  hurried, suddenly afraid.   
  
But when he burst into the room…

 

The Dementor Lord hovered over an slender body abandoned in the mattress of an enormous bed.   
  
Harry could only see the profile of elegant and fragile limbs, a white, ghostly robe, sharp curves delineating thin pearly skin, and a pallor that contrasted beautifully against the faded red bedspread.   
  
But what broke the fragile wall containing his instincts, that which pushed Harry to be possessed by his darkest emotions, which dragged him into becoming a monster ...   
  
Was the sight of those pale lips ravaged by the shattered mouth of the Lord Dementor. Griever's black blood oozing on the small chin and sunken cheeks.   
  
The star soul being devoured.   
  
Harry snatched him by the hair and away from Draco. Claws embedding cruelly deep in the skull, thick black blood like butterscotch soaking his hand, sliding to his wrist.   
  
Griever hissed through a mouth just beginning to heal, and tried to break free. But Harry threw him against the wall, again, and again, and again, brutally, with the force of a wrecking ball. Until the ground piled with stone rubble, and Griever's limbs were twisted and broken in a tangle of splintered bones poking through torn and bruised flesh.   
  
In the end, Harry lifted him,embedding the claws of his other hand in  his cheeks.   
  
Griever moaned in terror, no one, ever, had managed to hurt him so badly. 

  
Potter..    
  
Razor-sharp bones under skin white as marfil, hair turned into absolute blackness, crazy locks thrashing wildly into nonexistent wind, thin lips distended on a smile worthy of a chainsaw, and those eyes... burning  green embers of hellfire.   
  
He understood then, why the Avada Kedavra was green, death... was green.   
  
Thin lips seized his shattered mouth, teeth tearing soft flesh. Potter started sucking, ravaging. Swallowing his screams and hisses mercilessly.   
  
Griever could feel it on his lips, in his bones, in his flesh… He was being devoured.   
  
Harry smiled in the kiss,  feeling  Griever's pain, his despair, his horror.   
  
And did not stop.   
  
He continued even though the claws of the old master dug into his arms, ripping and tearing flesh, even when he began to convulse and writhe like a fish out of water.   
  
He would pay, would pay for all the pain he had inflicted on Draco. For the wounds, the agony, the desperation.  **He would pay for everything!**   
  
Griever realized he was dying ... and a last cry of desperate madness escaped his throat, before it too, was gulped down.   
  
The aura of the Lord flared for a moment, and then went out like a candle being blown by the wind.   
  
The monster went limp in his grip, no longer resisting.    
  
Harry took a step back ... and the Dementor Lord began to turn ashen, sandy ... in the end he became an ash column that crumble into granules of dried meat and dead skin, peeling and rotting at unnatural speed. Until at Harry's feet, only bones and a putrid mass of dried residues were left.   
  
Sanity was slowly returning to his mind, the murderous rage that had taken him, subsiding with the destruction of the one who brought it up.   
  
Harry looked at the remains of the Lord Dementor, and although knowing he should be feeling something, guilt perhaps, for having killed him, the ex auror could not feel anything more than a certain justified satisfaction.   
  
He shook his head and turned to the bed.   
  
“Draco …” had  missed him so much, so terribly much ... took the first step towards him ... and collapsed on the floor.   
  
At first he felt it like a tiny cancerous flame carving a burrow inside him, but soon it started to grow and possess all of  Harry.   
  
As a small conqueror who brought with him strange and new sensations, small and new electrical connections that were forming a network all through his insides.   
  
The pain was intense, agonising, filled with an acidic dark feeling that had a spicy aftertaste, perhaps it was hatred.   
  
And then came the power. An energy flare swallowed Harry from the inside out, merging with him, his aura, his soul, his own magic. He felt like a bottle filled to overflowing.   
  
He roared in wild pain. His bones, flesh, blood, were changing. Adapting to accommodate the new flow of magical energy.   
  
But still it wasn't enough, it wouldn't  fit.   
  
He shouted again, convulsing. Unable to contain the supersaturation of power, afraid it would kill him.   
  
His muscles creaked about to break...   
  
Harry  could no longer take it ...   
  
The agony concentrated on his back, his spine and shoulder blades,  felt something give out and skin tearing. Then, flesh burst open splattering all deep carmine blood as he writhed unable even to scream.   
  
His entire back creaked, the pain was so intense ... Harry begged soundlessly for unconsciousness, but his body, energized, would not allow it.   
  
He did not know how long did the process last. Crunches, screams, excruciating pain ...   
  
Until he was finally exhausted, gasping for breath, feeling like a rag.   
  
Pain left, but in its wake a strange weight on his back remained, yet, nothing else.   
  
Potter tried to sit up, and although shaky, having to hold onto the wall, he succeeded.   
  
Something was wrong… unbalancing him... he looked over his shoulder ...   
  
“Wings?!”  Giant appendages, black and lustrous, filled his view. Magnificent bat-like wings whose broken edges seemed eaten away, as if time and moths had eroded them. His new acquisition camouflaged with his robe, folded looked an extension of it. But extended...   
  
He refused to think about it. As if he was not alien enough.   
  
Harry shook his head and dismissed it on the spot. There was someone who he couldn't wait to wake up.   
  
Draco seemed asleep. Strands of his smooth silver hair spread on the pillow. Long eyelashes touching dark circles around his eyes, like watercolor stains.   
  
He was so thin ...  looked so frail and exhausted ... A delicate figure that could shatter if touched. Harry sat on the edge of the bed, watching him, drinking in his features.   
  
His heart seemed about to came out of his chest. Could not stop watching him, making sure he was really there.   
  
“Draco. Draco? Wake up.” He touched a fair strand of hair, brushing it of his temple gently, urging Draco to respond. But the little blonde did not move. There was not even a tremor of eyelashes.   
  
“Draco. Open Eyes.” Harry muttered, this time brushing his lips on a pale earlobe. But Draco was limp, still, caught in the clutches of sleep.  “Draco?”   
  
He shook the blonde slightly, feeling  concern began to sink its sharp claws into his chest.   
  
“Draco!”  ... Nothing.   
  
There was no answer.   
  
Increasingly frantic, Harry put his ear to Draco's chest.   
  
There was no pulse, there was no breathing.   
  
“No …” He lifted the body from the mattress, cradling him in his arms. Tucking that thin limbs against his chest, wanting desperately for those grey eyes to open, for a response to his pleas. But the little body was cold and limp. There was no life there.   
  
Draco was gone, he had arrived late.   
  
“No …”. Harry shrunk, wrapping around Draco's lifeless form with arms and legs, and wings, making a safe cocoon he did not want to leave.   
  
“Forgive me, forgive me, Draco ... if I hadn't been so stupid, if I had listened to you ... all my fault ... I love you…. Love you.” He muttered brokenly, again and again.   
  
Bitter tears soaked his eyelashes while desperately kissing those icy, pale and breathless lips.   
  
"Draco ... I love you."   
  
**To be continued.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are, tasting the end already. Next chapter will be the last, so little left now. I can't believe it. :)


	27. Unraveling

 

 

**Dementor kiss- chapter 25**

 

**Unraveling**

  
  


_ After a very thorough investigation, it was understood that, since the Dementors are immortal thanks to the melting together of body, soul, and magic, the extinguishing of the soul of the old Dementor Lord, taken by the actual one, Harry Potter, made for an imbalance, that, in the end, collapsed and killed Griever.  _

_ His power coming to rest with the one that had taken his soul. _

 

_ That's why, Harry Potter has exhibited a capacity for overpowering the curse in some ways; being understand, casting magic, and taking away the veil over the appearance. That… _

 

Hermione wrote a few more sentences, finished the report, and put it inside an envelope, to carry it to the archives in the morning. Work done, she started to grab her things. 

 

She had her office quite messy, thanks to all the accumulated paperwork; Paper sheets sorted into piles, folders and photographs, awaiting to be taken care off, as they invaded every available surface, both the chairs she had for visiting, included. 

 

It looked like the Ministry wanted to take revenge on he for her recent activities, by piling her with work. 

 

With a tired sigh, she took the feather and the inkwell to stash them in the drawer, but as she was doing this, the window caught her gaze. Outside, the electrical lights of London night illuminated the last workers of the Ministry, as they left for home.

 

It had gotten late, again.

 

“So late already?”- She had been so absorbed by work, hadn't realised it was night already. 

 

Putting everything hastily inside the drawer, the auror locked it. But as she was twisting the little brass key, she couldn't stop a grimace of pain. 

 

Sometimes, the wounds still hurt when she wrote for too long, like today. However, the pain could be lived with, since it was a reminder of that night of nearly a year ago, and of him…

 

Unthinkingly, Hermione covered her right hand with the left, and caressed the white scars that ran through the back of her hand, to the wrist, where they disappeared. 

 

“Blaise…” She missed him, she missed so many things...

 

Quietly, her fingers grabbed the photograph that had been in the corner of her table, since the very first day, of her work like an auror.

 

In the picture, three friends at their graduation day on the academy, posed. Faces fresh and young, full of eagerness  for the future, and the big things they wanted to do. 

 

Harry, Ron, and she, were going to be aurors, help people, and make the world a better place for it. 

 

Mione smiled a little sweet smile, as she caressed the frame, yellowed and chipped by use and time.  

 

They had been so naive then… even after the war, and all the horrible things they had seen, they still had keep their principles, and the unbreakable friendship that tied them together.

 

Many things had changed since then. Not all of them bad. But she couldn't but regret the loss. 

 

Their lives were very different now, mostly because of that stormy night, a year ago. 

 

And she had not remained untouched.

 

Hermione could never forget the precise instant, Blaise's wrist had slipped between her fingers. The horror, the fear, the agonising realisation she was losing something deeply valuable, even before having attained it. 

 

She barely remembered having screamed, as she saw Blaise's deep dark eyes dilated in surprise, and the silly idea of how a beautiful contrast would make his charcoal locks, against the white of the sea foam.

 

What came after, beneath the veil of sorrow and pain, was fuzzy. She knew that when Harry had disappeared inside the tower, in a mad battle against the Lord, she had started running. Even now she couldn't remember what she had been thinking when entering the prison. Making her way to the Dementors living place. But Hermione had the notion, she had been taken by the idea of losing Harry too.

 

The inside of the Tower had been more labyrinthine than she had thought.

 

Hysterical, desperate to find him, so obfuscated that for some time, she had not remembered the detection spell she could use to find him, Hermione had wandered the tower, like a moth clashing against glass. 

 

Ironically, it took her really clashing against a chair she had not noticed, for her to stop time enough to start thinking. As she realised she could have find him already, if she had cast it sooner, Hermione felt stupid for having lost her nerves. 

 

She took a deep breath, cleaned the tears marring her face, still a little tremulous, and cast the spell. 

 

The signal came distorted, erratic, like the quivering light of a car, but it was strong enough to be followed.

 

The thin, silver, thread, guided her through the labyrinthic halls to the last floor of the Tower.

 

**oOo**

 

There, the tapestries, the rugs, and all the furniture in general, was richer and remained better preserved than in one other place of the Dementor Tower.

 

Gold embroideries, thick and worn-out velvet, delicate carvings in beautiful dark woods… shone delicately beneath the light of the torches, like a myriad of exquisite crystal pieces.

 

However, a strange chill seemed to touch everything. 

It was a cage, a beautiful cage, but a cage even so. 

 

Her steps resonated against the wooden floor, breaching the unnatural silence. The unnerving quietude that embraced the place, made the hair of her nape stay on end. 

 

She had the feeling of having entered a forbidden place. As if the Tower itself, knew she wasn't supposed to be there, and was trying to make her leave.

 

But Harry was there somewhere, and she couldn't go without knowing if he was safe. 

 

Granger grabbed her wand tighter, and continued on, alert to any sign of menace. 

 

At the start, the sound had been so soft it was masked by the howling wind. And for a little while, she had not been sure of having heard it. But, as she advanced, it got clearer, sharper, until she recognised it as a voice she knew immediately.

 

“Harry!’ the name left her throat like the cry of a bird, and Hermione broke into a run. 

 

“...My fault... Draco… please... I'm so sorry… so sorry, so sorry,  sosorrysosorrysosorrysosorry…” the sentences sounded soft, muffled, like a child speaking beneath blankets. However, the voice was distinct. 

 

More nervous by the second, with her heart beating madly inside the cage if her ribs, breath made into fast and choked breaths, Hermione reached an open door. From inside, cold air filtered to the corridor. 

 

She came to a stop, regaining her breath. Hand in the doorknob. She became aware of the smell of sea salt and nocturn chilly air, and knew a window inside must be open.

 

The soft lament came from there.

 

Hermione righted herself with a physical yerk…but she was afraid of what she would find. 

 

What if her friend was wounded? Her fingers turned white around the metal handle. What if he was dying? It was a real possibility. But, if her friend needed her, she must be there.

 

The screech of the door opening fully, sounded like a little agony cry.

 

The room's only light source, were the dying amber's on the hearth. And still, the small flames were enough to light the crystal of the back of the dormitory beautifully. 

 

It reached from floor to ceiling, and displayed the Gryffindor shield, covered in years worth dirt and dust. 

 

She recognised it like the one, that decorated the room, Harry and the Lord, had entered. 

 

The open shutters, balancing on the wind like orphaned children, confirmed her suspicions. 

 

The shadows were deep, and took all the room, making the place into vaguely distinguishable shapes, were it was difficult to identify much if anything. 

 

“Harry?” She called, entering the accommodations. 

 

Something at her right moved. 

 

“Lumos.” flickering white light broke the darkness, revealing a four-posted bed profusely carved with greenery, fenixes and the Gryffindor shield. Long curtains of red heavy velvet, framed the bed, now tied away, to let the inside show, quietly waving in the breeze of the open windows.

  
  


In the bed, above the red gold embroidered quilt, was Harry. 

 

His face barely peeked behind a leathery, lustrous black, wing. He had enveloped himself with both appendages, into a safe cocoon, and if he had not raised his head, she could have thought him some kind of bizarre tenebrous chrysalis. 

 

The osseous-pale hue of his skin, the bones that seemed to want to break  through it like blades, the dark locks of his hair like black tendrils of darkness, and those eyes, green ember's of terrorising coldness…  They gazed at her, from the face that had been that of her best friend.

 

For but a second, the image was strange and frightening. But when she took a second to truly look at him… she understood. 

 

There were tears streaking his cheeks. Sadness and pain in those green deeps. He was no monster, he was Harry, her best friend.

 

Without a second thought, she crossed the few feet keeping them apart, and embraced him tightly against her chest. Harry felt cold, and burning hot, at the same time. But his smell was distinct.

 

He smelt like sweat, warmth, the pines that surrounded his home, and the cheap soap he used. 

 

The familiarity calmed her. 

 

“You had me worried” Hermione muttered, against the soft tangle, of his raven hair. 

 

Harry broke down in her arms. Face pressed to her shoulder, and the icy feeling of his tears, on the sensible skin of her neck. But he didn't come out of his cocoon. The leathery skin of his wings continued to envelope him, as if they could protect him from the agonising truth. 

 

The cocoon was too big for it to be encircled by her arms, so she laced them around his neck, caressing Harry's mane, like a little girl her older brother.

 

She could hardly believe he was safe, she had worried so much for him… Mione couldn't stop the relieved tears that began to wash her face.

 

'Thanks God, thanks God…’ she embraced him even tighter, needing to feel his presence, wanting to ask a million questions, but unable to, as she couldn't stop sniffing.

 

“What… what happened?” She asked in the end, when the tears calmed down.

 

For the longest time Harry didn't answer. But, when she was about to ask again, his friends voice, smooth, raspy, broke the silence like an old recording.

 

“Draco…” the name came so broken…

 

Hermione had the feeling her friend was melting in her arms, losing himself. Alive, but no longer the lively, ardent, man he had been.

Afraid, she put some space between them, to better look him in the face.

 

“Harry?” Restlessness came back to her breast. 

 

“Draco…” She saw him falter, as if the words choked him. Barely able to speak. “Draco… is dead.”

 

Hermione closed her eyes, but keeping new tears away from her cheeks became an impossible task. They fell down her face, like little rain streaks.

 

It couldn't be.

 

It couldn't be that they had come this far, just to arrive too late. She hiccupped. Blaise's death. Harry's transformation. And now Draco's demise. For whose rescue her friend had sacrificed so much. 

 

It was too much.

 

So unfair, so inhuman.

 

She raised her gaze, searching for that of her friends, however, Harry's eyes were like a lifeless wasteland. Only a scorched trace of guilt lived inside their emerald deeps.

 

It was the gaze of one who had lost everything, the gaze of one who had nothing left. 

 

The gaze of a suicidal man.

 

“No…” she said, embracing him tightly again, with all her remaining strength. She wouldn't let him go. 

 

Gulping with difficulty, Granger made herself think. There must be something that could help. 

 

“A dementor can not die.” It wasn't much, but it was all she had.

 

She was sure of it. It was written in all, and every book, about dementors she had found. Thus, Malfoy couldn't be dead. Could he? 

Hermione needed something to grab onto, so she embedded her  _ nails  _ into this truth with all her might. 

 

“Dementors can not die.” She repeated, a bit stronger. 

 

She felt, more than listen to, the broken, caustic, laughter of her friend. An ironic display of venomous emptiness.

 

It reminded her of what could come from trying to play a melody, in a broken, missing keys, piano. Something like laughter, but painful in its incomplete nature. 

All happiness had left that sound.

 

The darkness in the room became blacker, deeper, dangerous. It could swallow you if it came near enough, and her Lumos was already flickering.

 

Hermione couldn't suppress a shudder, yet, she keep her embrace and voice strong. 

 

“Dementors can not die.” She had to make Harry believe her. Had to reach her best friend, before he was devoured by his own pain and darkness.

 

“Dementors can not die.”

 

The unnerving laughter stopped, leaving him exhausted, as if he had not slept in days. And finally, he did answer. 

“But Hermione… Griever's dead.” his strange green gaze caught hers, and then moved to their left. She couldn't but follow it. 

 

The light was dim, barely enough to see anything. So at the start, Hermione didn't recognise the white pile of things, peeking from what looked like old wet cloth, and paper peelings. However, when she looked at it carefully, curious, Granger recognised the curve of a bone jaw poking through the cloth. 

 

She understood then, that those white things were but bones. Human bones. She thought he recognised hair locks, and putrid skin too. And looked away.

 

“Draco too…?” She couldn't say it. 

 

Harry shook his head no. 

With utter care, he unfolded his wings enough, for her to see what he had been keeping safe inside them. 

 

Draco.

 

The unmoving body, looked younger and smaller than she remembered. It may be, because of the fragile delicacy of his bird-like bones, the smoothness of his pale skin, beautiful and breakable. Yet, he didn't look wounded. 

 

She extended a hand, intent on searching for a heartbeat, but a lustrous wind intercepted her, protecting the little blond. 

 

“I only wanted to assess his heartbeat.” Hermione felt the need to explain, she hadn't been about to hurt him.

 

“There's no need, he doesn't have. There's no breath either.” And he folded his wings again, covering Draco away. 

 

“But he is not wounded.”- she mussed-”What did you do to the Dementor Lord?”

 

“I took his soul.” Harry cut across her words. 

 

Mione nodded, not bothered by his harsh words, as her mind raced. She thought she knew what had happened. The immortality of the dementors came from the fusion of soul, body and magic. So it wasn't hard to understand, that the extinction of one, would bring the collapse of the whole. That's why the Dementor Lord had ended as he had. 

 

Thus, Draco couldn't be dead. He had not collapsed, only seemed lifeless. There were dozens of illnesses that may cause those symptoms. Not the least of which was emotional trauma. A very traumatic experience could bring deep coma. That would explain the seemingly absent signs of life. 

 

She had read about victims of so horrific things, they had shut down just to escape. And with Griever Gryffindor as suspect, it was a very real possibility.

 

“Harry. Harry! Listen to me.” 

 

The call, managed to take Harry away from the falling spiral of self-loathing, agony and hate, he was falling into. But just barely. And only enough for him to raise his head again, and look at his best friend.

 

“I don't think Draco is dead.” How could she convince him?

 

“Hermione…”

 

“No, listen to me.” she interrupted, “Dementors cannot die because their soul is fused with their body, and thus they become immortal. But, you managed to kill Griever taking away that which made him so. That's why he collapsed.” And vaguely gestured to the pile of bone and other matters. “However, Draco's body remains whole. And that's because his soul is there. He  **is** alive! He must be!” She insisted with passion born of desperation. “You should be able sense it.” She said her last words, with a whisper of barely there, faint. “Please Harry, do try.”

 

Harry closed his eyes.

 

The words of his friend spoke about a possibility, he was afraid to contemplate. Since he couldn't take a second fall. Yet, if it was true…  

 

In the end Harry chose to try, since any chance of getting Draco back, small as it could be, was still worth it. 

 

Eyes closed, he let his power unravel,  _ tasting  _ his surroundings. There it was Hermione's aura, sweet and warm like just baked cookies. The fading, nearly extinguished one of the Lord. Some of the magical auras, of the most powerful books, resting on the bookshelves. But non Draco. With a choked moan, he was about to enclose his powers again, when he felt it … he had not found it sooner for the nearness to his own aura. 

 

But there it was. 

 

A sensation soft as a feather, delicate, barely there.

 

In his arms, shining like a miniscule star, and beating like the little heart of a bird, was the purest and most beautiful, essence, he had never felt. 

 

He felt aware of the enormous difference between their powers. It was like a giant wanting to cares a child, and he became afraid of hurting him. But he wanted so much to touch him…

 

Lovingly, very carefully, with the same care one would put into touching the wing of a butterfly, nearly in tears of joy, he touched him.

  
Draco fluctuated,  whispered like breeze,  and returned, soft as a whisper, the caress. The feeling reminded Harry of a shy, torn at the edges, smile.   
  
He was there. O, God, Draco was there.   
  
They touched a moment longer, and with immense sadness, he retired. Harry did not want to leave, did not want to ever leave him, but couldn't hurt Draco either. And he knew how dangerous, that kind of magic contact was, thanks to Hermione, after the first time he was foolish enough to touch Draco without permission.   
  
Potter opened his eyes slowly, feeling them wet, and knew he was crying with relief. 

 

He smiled tremulously.   
  
“You were right. He's here. He's here …” his voice broke, and Harry began to truly cry. Could not stop cradling  Draco in his arms, giving thanks, again and again, that he was alive.   
  
Hermione smiled. 

 

It was enough she had lost Blaise. But Harry and Draco ... after all they had endured, they deserved happiness.   
  
Harry and her embraced again, relieved, happy, with Draco cradled securely between the two.   
  
For a while  they were silent. Until relief began to waver, and  concern emerged anew.   
  
“But then, why doesn't he wake up?” Harry just muttered in the end, needing to know.    
  
The two friends separated with a worried sigh.   
  
Mione shook her head.   
  
“I can  not tell for sure. I do not know the differences between the body of a dementor, and that of a normal human.” she offered a sympathetic, and somewhat, contrite, look.  “I wish I could say more. But the only thing I can do it is make hipotesis. Yet, I think ... I think he's in shock. Sometimes there have been similar cases, people tortured to such an extent ... that their mind goes off, shutting itself. It's a defense mechanism against madness.”

 

She explained, and looked down at the pale, lifeless, little body. Trying to calmly say, what she knew was an horrible prospect.  “Whatever the Lord did to him...  It came to the point, that he had to fall back on itself just to survive.” those last words were muffled, barely shaped, but Harry heard them perfectly.   
  
He wished he could resurrect the Dementor Lord, just to kill him again, this time in a much more painful and gruesome way. His mind full of guts,  dark putrid blood, and broken bones.   
  
Even so, he keep his anger controlled.   
  
The Lord was dead, little could be done about it. What mattered now, was  helping Draco.   
  


“What  can we do?” - tenderly, comfortingly, he stroked the silky silvery hair.   
  
Mione sighed.   
  
“Unfortunately, not much. He can not be forced to wake up. It's not a disease, that which keeps him. It was chosen willingly. And trying to force him out

…” She could not help looking down. “The pain could drive him mad.”   
  
“Then …”- Harry's whisper, full of sadness, broke her soul. However, Hermione couldn't do anything else, but offer an apologetic look, and a few words of advice.   
  
“All you can do now, is wait and take care of him ... until he returns to the world of the living.”   
  
After that, they had been together in silence, for a few minutes. Taking comfort in each other's presence.   
  
But soon her exhaustion became evident.   
  
She could barely keep her eyes open. Her body ached, her hand more than anything else,  pressed as it was, by a painfully tight precarious band, she had improvised with a torn piece of her dress.   
  
Harry, concerned about her state, had to persuade her to return home, even though she did not want to go yet. Not until being completely sure, he would be fine.   
  
“Hermione, I'm fine.” he said before she could argue. “You've done enough for me, more than anyone else would have. And I will never forgive myself, if something happens to you because of me. Go home and rest, do not make me drag you to the floo.” It was a weak joke at best, and clearly an attempt to convince her of his well-being.  Yet, it was his will to attempt to help, more than anything else, what made her sigh and smile slightly.   
  
“All right, I'll go home and rest. But I'll be back tomorrow, and you better be here.” She threatened alf exhausted, alf funny. At least there was hope.   
  


“ We will be here. I promise.” And hugged her, suddenly, strongly. “Thank you, Mione.”   
  
Unable to answer, her throat stuck with emotion, she returned the embrace and stood.   
  
“I would accompany you, but …” he looked at Draco, asleep in his lap.

 

Hermione nodded sympathetically.   
  
“Don't worry, I know the way.” she said as she opened the door. “Take good care of him, okay?” If she could have had Blaise, even like Draco was, she  wouldn't have left him too.   
  
“Of course.”   
  
With a promise to meet again, she began to backtrack her way, to the guardroom.   
  
It was pure chance, what made her be at the front door of Azkaban, at that very moment.   
  
Tiredness had played tricks on her, and ended up straying her way, to finish in the shadowy entrance hall. And she was already turning around to get back on track, when the sound seeped into her brain.   
  
Hermione paused.   
  
“Wha …?”

 

A desperate knock knock on wood.   
  
Who could be knocking at the doors, of the hardest prison of the wizarding world, at this morning hour?   
  
Driven by curiosity, and simply thinking someone should answer (at this point, her brain was not that much awake) she opened the door.   
  
In the point of rock, cut knife-like that acted as the port of the island, shivering, soaked, Blaise Zabini, the vampire, seemed about to collapse.   
  
“... Zabini.” The word came from her lips completely incredulous. She could not react. “How?”   
  
Blaise just smiled, exhausted, triumphant ... and hugged her. It was an awkward hug, nearly tripping over   to get her.   
  
He was cold, and wet. His clothes and  hair were soaked and dripping. And he smelled like sea salt and algae. It was an awkward hug ... but it was a perfect embrace.   
  
“Merlin …” he whispered against her hair, voice hoarse. It could be from exhaustion, hunger, or desire. Maybe a little of all three. It didn't matter. What did matter...  “I thought I'd never see you again.”   
  
Behind him, the horizon had started to lighten to a sickly gray, heralding the dawn.   
  
Quickly, a little queasy, Hermione and Blaise closed the door behind them, and finally slipped down, to sit on the stone floor of the hall.   
  
They started kissing. 

 

At first, a little uncertain, almost fearful of being rejected, but with every new kiss, they got more passionate, desperate, mad... Touching lips to other's lips, and every other uncovered place; cheeks, temples, slender necks and fine collarbones.   
  
The dance took hold of them. It was amazing, it was exhilarating. But with a tinge of familiarity, of memory, of warmth… that was almost like coming home.  Clothes became a barrier,  then the skin, and their flesh itself.   
  
They wanted to merge entirely with one another. Possessed, devouring each other.   
  
They ended up in an orgy of kisses, nibbles and caresses. Looking to desperately make contact with every centimeter of their skins. Offering, and taking, with absolute craving.   
  
And then, when they were huddled in the cold stone, sated and exhausted, came the words.   
  
The whispers, the murmurs barely pronounced. The subtle exploration, much deeper, of souls.   
  
The unbelieved, almost delirious, meeting, of two pieces that fit together, as perfectly, as if they had been made one for another.

 

**oOo**

  
  
“Still working?” The playful voice from the door of his office, cleared her memories away, instantly.   
  
“Blaise!” The vampire sailed through the space between them, as if it had not been there in the first place, surrounding her with his arms, even before she'd say his name.   
  
They kissed passionately, warmly. Outlining each others bodies, with hands and lips.   
  
“I thought you wouldn't be back until tomorrow.” She whispered, her breathing hard, between kisses.   
  
Part of her melancholic recall was due to the absence of her fiance, who, as an ambassador of the ministry, took nearly a month in a vampiric colony, at the other end of the country.   
  
“I couldn't stay another day without seeing you, so I had everyone working tirelessly to end a day early.” He smiled mischievously, attacking her throat with his lips.   
  
“What do I do with you?”- she whispered exasperatedly, in jest.   
  
“I can think of a couple of things …”

  
“Blaise!”-Hermione exclaimed, shocked, when she felt long fingers looking for the hem of her skirt. And gave the appendage a playful slap.   
  
Both could not help but laugh ... Until the vampire, captured her in the deep red of his love overflowing eyes.   
  
“What would I do without you? My dear auror”

 

Hermione could see  that he was remembering those months of agony, during which, she had used every moment, every atom of intelligence, to get the fair trial that both Blaise and Pansy deserved. 

 

Ron still had not forgiven her for lying, let alone Harry, an d did not want to know anything.   
  
He had the misfortune of being sent to investigate the magic disturbance at Harry's home, where he found his wand, abandoned, and the remains of the ritual.

  
When she had returned, bitten, exhausted and happy. It was to find him waiting ... and well, the conversation that came, was not very nice.   
  
Now the only ones apart of them who knew the truth, were the council of wizards. And all of them were under an unbreakable vow of silence.   
  
What would people think, if they learned that the hero of the wizarding world, had embraced  darkness, and  was now the Lord of the Dementors?   
  
The scandal would be uncomparable. But still, that would have been manageable.   
  
The reason for all the secrecy about Draco and Harry. The real problem. It was that of knowing this, people might wonder how it was that he had been transformed into a dementor. And if I they became curious ...   
  
Any possibility that the curse of dementor could be used again, should be eradicated. And for that, no one could know of its existence, not even of the possibility of it.   
  
“I think we should go home, you know ... to undo the luggage.” Hermione blinked slowly, seductively. 

 

Right now she did not want to remember past sorrows, she wanted to enjoy her greatly missed, future husband.   
  
“I  agree. We can't leave those poor bags without undoing. Taking up space in the bedroom …” He swallowed the centimeters that separated their lips, and melted them together into a kiss full of joy and desire. 

 

Blaise could not wait to get home, but anyway … He doubted Mione would let him do anything fun in the office, after the last time. They had made such  scandalous sounds, the secretary had come to see what was happening ...   
  
Hermione had been mortified for weeks.   
  
He smiled at the memory.   
  
Sometimes, it was strange thinking this  funny, shy Mione, was the same unwavering, strong-willed, Auror, who had brought them out of Azkaban, fighting against the corrupt system of law, with an iron will, no one had been able to break.    
  
He still he kept the newspaper clippings.   
  
The news had populated the press for months. The account of their unjust imprisonment and hardships, seasoned by the courage of Auror Granger, had become the talk of the magical world. Give them a bit of drama and heroism, and people throw you their support.   
  
The wave of complaints about the jailing of the former slytherin, had put the ministry into a precarious situation. In which they had no choice, but to grant them the fair trial, that was asked.   
  
And they had won. 

 

How could it be otherwise? The fierce lioness Granger would not have allowed it. And the popular opinion, perilously tilted in their favor, had earned them the recovery of both the possessions  if the Zabini and Parkinson families, which had been requisitioned after the war.   
  
Finally, members of the council of wizards, in an attempt to appease and win back popular support, had  offered them work in the ministry.

  
Now almost a year later, what people knew was that Blaise was a proud worker if the division of magical creatures, (Since he was one himself) and Pansy had started the career of magical law.   
  
"They will see what is good" she had said when asked why.   
  
And Hermione and he, were having their particularly happy ever after.

 

Which Blaise was determined to make truth. He hadn't asked Hermione as of yet, of course. He knew it would take time to convince her. But he was sure to get her agreement someday soon, he would not settle for less.   
  
Mione will accept the kiss, so they could be together for all eternity. 

 

Blaise couldn'tt help smiling in happiness.   
  
‘What do you smile so much about?”  Asked his beloved as they left the ministry, into the warm night air.

 

He looked at her.   
  
The moon shone in her tangle of candy-coloured curls, turning them into a cotton-like halo around her lovely freckled face. Absolutely irresistible. Seductively, he brushed her earlobe with his lips.   
  
“In how absolutely delicious you look tonight.” The vampire whispered in the serious, deeply masculine, voice, he knew would melt her.   
  
“Idiot.” She just muttered, totally red. And he took the opportunity to disappearing them toward their bedroom.   
  
In the street, behind them, only remained their giggling.

 

**oOo**

 

(Azkaban)

  
The dying evening light coming through the windows, flooded the room, bathing everything in the deep carmine hue, of the dying day.   
  
It poured across the high shelves, touched the old dusty volumes, some of which were so old that were believed lost.   
  
It slid down the thick red carpet, reflected in the gold embroidery woven into its strands.  Caressed the almost black wood furniture, and ran across the pages of the book that Harry was trying to read. Yellowed parchment tinted  bloody red.   
  
The hue, brought to mind the memory of  golden needles dipped in sticky crimson, and of ivory skin.   
  
He frowned and closed the volume.   
  
Harry had come to the library, to find some distraction of the madness his life was turning into. And here he was, remembering things that only made matters worse.   
  
He got up, and started walking around the room, needing to calm down, since what he really wanted to do, was go out and torture someone, preferably one of those Dementors who did nothing but throw themselves at his feet. 

 

Pathetic.   
  
He shook his head trying to free his thoughts from blood, shattered bone, and soft organs splitting gently under his teeth.   
  
What was he becoming?   
  
He slammed his fist against the wall with all his might, some pieces of masonry fell off, and he felt his knuckles split apart under the impact. The pain cleared his head, and made him feel better.   
  
It was becoming difficult to remember what was right. Every time he looked at the inert figure of Draco, he felt broken between mourning, and a wish to kill that was getting harder and harder to ignore. As if something very dark inside him, feed from his hatred and agony, growing every day, threatening to turn him into a monster.   
  
Ironically, seeing Draco, was also the only thing that gave him the courage to go on. What reaffirmed Harry in his will to do the right thing.   
  
It was crazy. 

 

And if things continued so, he would eventually lose his sanity. Too much hatred, too much love.   
  
He needed balance, needed someone to anchor him to the light, and save his mind from sinking into the depths of its own shadows.   
  
And that one could only be Draco. If only he woke up ...   
  
Having to leadership of the Dementors, didn't help. 

 

Half the time they irritated him with their cruelty, the other half he wanted to kill them all.   
  
Resigned, Harry realized he would not calm down there. And he was going to leave the library, when he felt something ... the alarm in his rooms had jumped.   
  
Draco!   
  
He ran.   
  


**oOo**

 

(Draco)

  
He did not know when he realized, or what made him notice.   
  
But he had known for some time now,that where he lived was not real.

 

Perhaps it was that indefinable something that constantly seemed on the edge of his sight, like a thick haze that he could not catch. Or the fact that time seems to lengthen, or shrink, at will. Like a colorful ribbon, stretching and collecting in bright spirals.   
  
But more than anything, he believed that what had given him the key was that feeling. That indefinable throb in his chest. that constantly told that Draco, something was missing.   
  
This existence was beautiful, it was fun, nothing seemed never to go wrong. Pansy and Blaise were there, and his parents too, who often visited Hogwarts to see him. 

 

There were parties, and dances, and plays and quidditch games, that  were like jewels embedded beautifully in the filigree of the ribbon.   
  
But something was missing, something important. He didn't know what, he could not remember, and Draco believed he would not, until he finally woke up. It was, as if some essential part of his happiness, had been lost in the building of the puzzle of this world, that surrounded him.   
  
He knew that, if he wanted to find that something, he would have to get out of there. And also, that  it would not be difficult, it would suffice to want to. Or so he thought.   
  
But he was afraid. What if he opened his eyes, and what he remembered was  awful? What if the other side was a nightmare, and waking up he drowned in it?   
  
All these doubts and fears had stopped him for a long time. However, after some time, he had come to understand one thing. The risk was worth it.   
  
He knew what he had here, and was not happy. He felt incomplete, like a clock without hands. And he could not continue as he was. He needed to know for himself, what was missing. And there was only one way to do it..   
  
He had to open his eyes.   
  
Draco sighed and closed his eyes letting everything around dissolve.   
  
He began to feel float, dizzy, heard in the distance the voice of his father, asking if this was what he really wanted.   
  
“I do not know.- he muttered.- But is what I need.”   
  
The world fell into mist ...   
  
And Draco opened his eyes with a strangled groan. God ... it hurt so much...his head ... the world seemed to spin before his eyes like a pinwheel of colors. He heaved  but had nothing inside to vomit.   
  
Dizzy, closed his eyes, and curled up on himself, waiting for it to pass.   
  
So still, it seemed he could breathe more easily. Sigh. Well, at least it seemed that he had managed to wake up. Carefully, he made collection of his past, to see if he could remember something ...   
  
And the images began to untangle from his brain like strips of barbed wire. Horrifically painful in their crisp clarity.   
  
Green, huge, fiery eyes. Black, scrambled, silky hair, a nest for birds terribly sexy. Amber skin, athletic body, bright smile.   
  
Warm.   
  
Harry.   
  
Without having even remembered everything, he knew what was he had lacked.   
  
But…   
  
Other memories surfaced as well.   
  
Freezing nights in a tiny cell, shivering, coughing, unable to take a breath, thinking he would die.   
  
Rough, nasty, hands on his skin. The murmur of a name, Tomas.

 

He brought a hand to his mouth,  holding  bile inside..   
  
Cold, cold...  an icy, cruel, smothering, oppressive presence. Scaly skin, eyes black as oil wells, niches of darkness in a demonic face. Talons ripping his flesh, opening him, possessing him. Semen sliding down his bloody thighs.   
  
The Dementor Lord   
  
He began to shiver, trying to contain the sobs that tore him inside. Why the warm man, Harry, had not saved him from that?   
  
Other memories came to him, scattered, like photographs in an album.   
  
Lies.   
  
Draco had lied. green eyes full of hatred, betrayal, disgust, rejection.   
  
What had he done?   
  
He had made a mistake. That which he had come to find, he could never have. 

 

And if the Lord Dementor found him awake ... icy lips, sharp teeth on the tender flesh of his own, filled by powerful thrusts of lust, red blood on white sheets, nails desperately embedded on the softness of the pillow. Shouting through a broken throat...   
  
He began to shake uncontrollably.   
  
No. He could not go back to that.   
  
He should return to the lab. Return to the world of dreams. And this time, stay there.   
  
He opened his eyes.   
  
“ ... Flo ... wers?”  In front of his face, almost touching his nose, rested a bouquet of daisies on the embroidered quilt. Incredulous, Draco reached out. Gently his fingers brushed the edge of a leaf. Their texture, fresh and delicate, as only a freshly cut flower could have, caught his breath. It was so long since he did  touch a flower ...   
  
And they were real.   
  
“How…? “ He raised to a sitting position on the huge bed, amazed, looking around completely dumbfounded.   
  
There were flowers stacked all over the quilt. Invading everything like a small sea of colors. Hundreds of beautiful pink petals of water lilies, daisies, tulips, bright yellows, oranges, reds, violets, roses, bells, sunflowers...   
  
O my God,  sunflowers! He picked up one, yellow petals caressing his fingers. It was so beautiful ... Something touched his hair, and Draco glanced up. Hanging from the canopy wisteria blossoms, vines, passion flowers, bluebells, and precious camellias, filled his sight.   
  
He took a deep breath, soaking up the scent of so many flowers. How had he not  noticed before, the great perfume that filled everything? It was mossy green, sweet as honey, so intense ... it reminded him of the drawer full of spices and dried flowers, that his mother always used for the ingredients in her creams.   
  
But what did, all those flowers, do there? He frowned delicately. It was too strange.   
  
He resisted the urge to lie between the tangle of greenery, and sink his nose in each of the precious coloured buds. His survival instincts screamed hysterically. If the Dementor Lord came now ...   
  
Because he recognized the room. Those were the rooms of lord of the tower. A shiver ran down his spine. Too many memories.   
  
But there was something incongruous in the picture, everything seemed ... different, and not just because of the flowers.   
  
The windows were no longer covered by dirt, shining beautifully in the evening light that poured through the glass panels. The sunrays turned the room into a place dyed bright red, and warm golden. The Gryffindor shield, transforming the room into something very much like the music box he had had as a child. 

 

Vaguely, he could still remember the melody. It was beautiful but jarring, and he thought it would have married well with the new vibrancy of the place.   
  
The mantelpiece had been invaded by old photo frames of silver, copper,  wood, and other materials he did not recognize. Draco regretted being too far away, to see the images they framed, but was too weak to move there, without collapsing on the floor. 

  
On the sofa, cushions and a thick blanket, still wrinkled, made evince of someone having slept there. The furniture seemed worn enough, to have been used as a bed place for some time.   
  
The desk looked to have lost its absolute order, invaded by papers and envelopes placed haphazardly, thrown here and there without care.   
  
A plate with crumbs on the tea table, misplaced  books on the shelves...   
  
Unusual changes, that, somehow, reassured Draco.   
  
Curiosity pulled him, insistent.   
  
His bare feet came down from the bed and sank into the plush red carpet,  familiarizing with its nice texture.   
  
He felt weak as a child, still a little dizzy, and for a moment, Draco thought he would fall, but managed to hold on to the bedpost.   
  
He looked toward the fireplace, if only he could get to see the photos ... but was too weak to get there. The only thing close enough to reach it, if stretched enough, was the desk.   
  
With deliberate care,  one hand clutching the wooden edge of the table, before releasing the other from the bedpost, he managed to anchor himself, and using the writing desk as support, sit in the chair before it.   
  
The small movement left him exhausted.   
  
As a result of excess time in bed, his muscles refused to respond as they should.   
  
He picked up one of the papers scattered on the table. It seemed no more than a routine letter from the ministry, about properties and such. He set it aside, and grabbed another. One whose wrinkled corner just peeked out from the pile.   
  
It immediately felt familiar. The writing,  fast and messy, but strangely childlike, and the curious way in which the  _ R  _ letter, was drawn... he knew it as well as his own.   
  
He had spent weeks memorizing a note, that had that same writing.   
  
Harry?   
  
A presence behind him, prickled his nape.   
  


**oOo**

(Harry)

  
When he entered the room and saw the empty bed, he thought his heart would stop.   
  
But it was not until his sight was diverted to the desk, that his heart really stopped.   
  
The light, which  only a few minutes ago, had bothered him so much, coming through the window, pouring through the room in bundles of colors...   
  
Vibrated on the forest that was the bed, making it an almost ethereal shelter, (He himself, had created those flowers for Draco), It slid across the furniture, like veins of  crystal rock, and glittered with absolute beauty, in a tiny patch of golden light, framing the small figure sitting at the desk.   
  
Draco.   
  
The old slytherin was only clad on his pale tunic. The fabric hung precariously from his thin shoulders, showing the almost translucent skin of his neck, thin, almost fragile collarbones, and his little bare feet, peeking shyly beneath the folds of the edge.   
  
Beautiful, ethereal, more apparition, than being of flesh and blood.   
  
From his position, Harry could only see the graceful curve of his neck and back, his bare, immaculate, shoulders, and the feathery softness of  silver strands touching the sunken hollow of his cheek.   
  
And the word escaped his lips, like the tortured whisper of a dying person who is offered water.   
  
“Draco …”

 

**oOo**

 

(Draco)

 

That voice staved to his heart and blood. An electric current ran through all his senses, putting them on end, making Draco powerfully aware of another presence behind him.   
  
His heart raced giddily. And his breath died in the chest. Taking air in small gasps almost drowned, he watched, stunned, as the candlelight decreased with every step that sounded on the wooden floor, approaching him.   
  
His brain collapsed like a scratched record, a phrase and a name circling his head like mosquitoes on a vial.   
  
‘It can not be, can not be. Harry …’   
  


**oOo**

  
He saw Draco tremble weakly, shrugging as if afraid to get hurt. And though he knew it was a mistake, Harry put his arms protectively around his frame. Wishing to reassure him.   
  
However, the moment their bodies touched, even through the fabric,  desire shook him like tiny cockroaches of scurrying sensation, and pleasure set aflame his nerve endings. 

  
So, so close he could feel the perfume the blonde emanated. Some came from the flowers, and vibrant green leaves. Some, was still  the subtle aroma of vanilla, Draco always seemed to carry, gooey and sweet. And underneath, almost extinct, the even weaker spicy masculine scent of male sweat.

 

The erotic combination strained his nerves to the limit. Monster instinct, and man's mind, seemed to want to tear his sanity in two opposite halves.   
  
Draco almost lost consciousness, when those authoritarian, and protective arms, caged him.   
  
He felt  heat emanating in waves through the skin of the other, despite the fabric between them, setting him aflame. The memory of that same heat made him dizzy, and longing was too strong to be contained.   
  
A small sound, more desperate sadness, that small joy, escaped his lips, as a barely audible complaint.   
  
“Why ... why are you here?” -His voice broke miserably. He was so afraid ... afraid to turn around and see that it was not the Auror the one who embraced him. Afraid of Potter's reasons for being there. How could he want to hug him when he hated Draco?   
  
He felt his pupils wet, about to cry. It was all too confusing, and he had no strength left.   
  
Harry tightened his embrace. The terror and longing that Draco gave off, were almost palpable, like a film on his skin. Trapping Malfoy in his own body. Making him a prisoner of his own feelings.   
  
Only two words could  free him.   
  
"Love you.” he whispered into his hair, soft, slow, sensual. Craving with all his might to be believed. If only he could convey how much he wanted Draco, how much he was needed, how horribly he regretted what he had done ... 

 

He wanted to care for him,  protect him from everyone and everything.   
  
And yet, also... he wanted Draco down on his knees, to take him, mark him like a beast in heat.   
  
He wanted to love him. He wanted to mark him with fire.   
  
Harry closed his eyes, and gritted his teeth. He would not do it. He would not hurt Draco again.   
  
Draco shuddered to hear those two words, "I love you."   
  
And he turned on the spot, desperate, frightened, hopeful, hungry for love.   
  
“Harry …” His heart threatened to stop. For a moment of growing horror, he thought he was looking into the face of a monster.   
  
His throat  dried, his eyes filled with tears. He feared what he already knew it would happen. He could see it in those burning eyes, full of lust. A muffled groan of despair escaped his lips, and Draco closed his eyes unable to fight him.   
  
But instead of attacking, the creature began to stroked his hair, with infinite tenderness, sweet, reassuring. Slowly, his words began to sink in, to penetrate the layer of panic that enveloped the blond.   
  
“It's me, Draco. I'm Harry.” The words, sung in that voice he had missed so much...   
  
Slowly, still undecided, he opened his eyes cautiously.   
  
“Harry?”  He muttered and searched his gaze. It was like watching the heart of a bonfire, and the surface of a sheet of ice, at the same time. But underneath... under it all...   
  
Their eyes met, and he recognized immediately, the vibrant, perfect, passionate man, he loved. Passion, nobility and pride burned inside, and were, the green heart of that, almost crazy, gaze. And there was so much love there ...  tears soaked his eyelashes.   
  
“How …?” timidly, his fingers touched the sharp curve of that male jaw, the pale skin, almost bone white. He briefly stroked the tips of his crazed hair.  Brushed with absolute care, the burned crust  of his hands. And finally, curious, the edge of a leathery wing.   
  
During all the time Harry could not stop shuddering. Draco was so cute, so seductive in his small explorations ...   
  
Their eyes met again. Draco's grey irises, huge, full of love, in need of answers.   
  
“I searched for ways to break the curse,-Harry answered- but there was none. So I also …”   
  
“ ... You took the curse.” ended Draco in a tone almost broken by tears. “You didn't have to. I do not want ... do not want …” he hided his face in his hands,   muttering in despair.   
  
Gently, with great tenderness, Harry took those hands in his, searching Draco's face.   
  
“Didn't you want me to come for you?” he whispered reassuringly, yet, full of pain. What if Draco did not want him there?   
  
The little blond flatly refused.   
  
“It's not that.”   
  
“Then?”Harry asked, almost on the verge of tears himself.   
  
“What I do not want ... is for you to hate me.” He ended, with those gray immensities reflection of his anguish, looking at him.   
  
“Never”.  Harry hugged Draco tightly, caressingly, protecting him against his chest, and warming him with his heat, and reassuring sweet words. Quieting  Draco fears, who was terrified of being hated for being the cause of his curse. 

 

Harry couldn't take it.

“I was wrong, I thought you'd been using me. That I meant nothing to you. I was so cruel… I am sorry. I love you. Draco ... I love you. And that will never change. I promise.”  And he never broke his promises, everyone knew it.   
  
Anguish for what Harry had done for him, and the happiness of listening to those words, broke through Draco. Engulfing him, and making him cry, as he had not done since he was a child.

 

He collapsed in the embrace, lulled by the constant, reassuring, sound of Harry's heartbeat.   
  
Harry could not resist. 

 

The slender body so desperately stuck to his, those gray eyes shining with tears, pleading, loving, thin pink lips wet with saliva ... through his veins no longer ran  blood, they flowed with madness.   
  
With a muffled sound of defeat, and self-loathing , his lips sought Draco's.   
  
Surprise paralyzed the little blond for a moment.   
  
But almost immediately,  magic melted him into pleasure, as it flowed through him, urging his surrender. 

 

Harry's lips on his were possessive, domineering, absolutely intoxicating. He opened his, wanting more.   
  
Burned by the tongue entering his mouth,  his skin felt like the furnace of a locomotive. His lips, tongue, tasted a strange and heady flavor of sandalwood and dust, spices and melted chocolate. And he seemed  unable to get enough of it.   
  
He arched his body desperately, offering himself entirely. He needed Harry, needed him so much…

 

The new Dementor Lord, was not much better. He wanted to erase all traces of anyone but him of that pale  skin. Wanted to mark him, fill him entirely.   
  
Harry felt Draco return every kiss, every touch, every desperate moan. The feeling was so erotic, that burst into shreds what little was left of his will.   
  
“I can not wait more.”  A guttural growl, against the perfect curve of a pale throat. 

 

He needed to have Draco.   
  
Draco gasped at his words. Shuddering with desire. Unable for a moment of nothing but moan.   
  
“Take me.” he managed to mutter, offering his throat in a clear sign of submission and surrender.   
  
When Harry did not react, completely mesmerized by the sight, he pressed on. “Please, please ... HARRY!” 

 

He couldn't wait any longer. Magic, love, the desperate need to forget everything else, all that were not the two of them, were too much.   
  
Harry picked him up on his arms, turning the chair to the floor in the process, anxious like a beast in heat. His green eyes glittered much like  sulfurous fire, as he bared his fangs possessively. Prepared to mark pale skin.   
  
He placed Draco on the bed, claws tore the white robe, and the blond arched to allow him to undress his body completely.   
  
For a second everything seemed to stop, those emerald embers caressing him from head to toe. Sipping in his nakedness.   
  
Harry stayed quiet an instant, almost paralyzed by the absolute, fragile beauty, of the naked appearance on the bed.   
  
By that pale, luminous skin, cradle of brittle bones, companion of hair made of moonlight, in love with the huge gray depths of his so sad eyes, and those mauve shadows painted around them, that were the natural makeup, of a creature made of sadness, homesickness, and melancholy.   
  
The slender, elegant limbs, narrow waist, red, wet and swollen from his kisses, lips. A vision of sadness overwhelmed with eroticism.   
  
With a growl, his instinct aroused wild.   
  
Draco watched almost in trance, as Harry tore his own robe. 

 

The burns he had seen on his hands, came from the tip of his fingers, to his shoulders. From the tips of his feet,  to his thighs. A black, cracked, scab, which contrasted strangely in almost crazy beauty, with the pale, thin skin, of the rest of Harry's athletic body.   
  
He threw the cloth to the floor, away from them, and spread his wings with a bestial roar.   
  
Draco groaned. Harry's vision like that... powerful, possessive ... hurt him with the empty hopelessness of his absence. He needed him inside. Needed to be filled entirely.   
  
And opened his thighs, soft, timid, almost trembling, but incapable of anything else. While those green flames devoured his every gesture. 

 

He felt his cheeks flush making them burn. Knew he should be ashamed to act so wanton, but ... he just could not help himself.   
  
Harry grabbed those hips, positioning himself. His lips brushed Draco's earlobe.   
  
“Mine.” Inhuman, dark, hissing voice.   
  
“Yours.” Soft, submissive, immensely sweet.   
  
Bíceps tense, tousled hair of crazy tendrils of darkness. The most sexy and predatory look Draco had never seen, like a snake hypnotizing him, pinning him under it.   
  
Then Harry smiled ... and pushed.   
  
Draco howled. 

 

It hurt, it hurt a lot, there had been no preparation, no lubricant. He felt  blood slide between his thighs.   
  
But he did not resist. Even if it hurt, he wanted this. He wanted to be one with Harry, needed to feel him inside. 

  
He wrapped  arms and legs around his lover, pulling him even closer, meeting each of his furious onslaughts. Feeling him growing inside ... until he grazed...   
  
And the pain exploded in bright particles of pleasure.   
  
He no longer knew where he ended and  Harry began. He could taste his magic in the air, hear it whispering in his ears,  caressing his skin. He could feel Harry in him, inside him, enveloping him, filling him. The pleasure was so intense,  he feared falling unconscious, completely collapsed under such intense feeling.   
  
He couldn't take anymore.   
  
And then, slowly, gradually, Harry  calmed down. Becoming  softer, sweeter, more tender. no longer assaulting his center with furious lust, but caressing it with each new thrust, slowly plunging him in pleasure, rather than drowning him in it.   
  
Harry felt his sanity returning slowly, his instinct, the monster who had been about to possess him in recent months, calming down, cooing in the warm skin of Draco.   
  
“Draco …” He saw his love shudder beneath him. Sore.   
  
From that moment on, their lovemaking became a dance of touches, kissing, apologies barely whispered. Promises of eternal love. Promises of eternity.   
  
Draco finally fell asleep in his arms. Satiated. Healed by his magic. The most beautiful smile on his lips. A happy smile full of love. A smile that made Harry's heart boil over.   
  
Beautiful, pure, fragile, his.   
  
He had never known what it was true love, until he fell in love with Draco. He was never really happy, until he realized that Draco loved him too.   
  
His little Draco, his love. He would never  let that smile die out again. He would protect  and  love Draco forever. He swore to himself.   
  
As he was Harry Potter, the Lord Dementor, and he always kept his promises.   
  
END  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: Well, this took a really long time, but it's finished now, and hopefully next week I will be able to submit the first chapter of my new fic; Spiderweb.
> 
> It will be another Harry/Draco one, this time with acromantula as the main magical being. I hope you have a hard stomach if you are thinking about reading it, since it would describe cannibalistic  and rape scenes. See you soon, and I hope you enjoyed this fic as much as I did writing it. ;)


End file.
